What Doesn't Kill Us
by Seshat0120
Summary: A series of unfortunate events while in Washington, DC to obtain funding for the Project strengthens the ties of friendship between Sam and Al. Last chapter now uploaded.
1. Chapter 1

**What Doesn't Kill Us…**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Wednesday, March 7, 1990**

Washington, DC was experiencing a spell of cold and wet weather. It may have been the beginning of March, but winter still had its hold on the city. Since arriving in DC two nights ago, a steady rain had been covering the city. At times it was a hard downpour and other times, like now, it was just a slow and steady mist. Looking around where they were standing, Al thought the weather fit in quite nicely.

He and Sam had arrived in Washington two nights ago to meet with the full Congressional committee that oversaw the Project. In just the past couple of months since the committee was last out at the Project, things had grown by leaps and bounds and they had come Washington to beg for even more money. They met with the Committee yesterday morning and were able to secure the additional funding that they needed. Originally, they were scheduled to depart yesterday evening but Sam talked Al into delaying their departure by a day.

If Al had his way, at this moment he'd be nice, warm and dry in the hotel – preferably with a little female companionship. Sam, though, had talked Al into accompanying him on an early-morning walk to the National Mall. Every other time they'd been to DC, Sam had always made the trip by himself. Al was flattered that Sam felt secure enough to invite him along this time

and didn't turn down the invitation – even if any other sane person would have considering the weather.

Their walk ended where he knew it would – The Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. Al had visited the Wall many times himself previously and had even attended the dedication of it. On far too many of its black marble panels he was able to find the names of men he knew and had counted as friends. Sam, though, was interested in only one name on one panel.

They walked down to the memorial in silence and when Sam reached the panel etched with the names of those killed on April 8, 1970 he stopped and knelt down in front of it. He reached out and his finger traced over a name that he was now on eye level with – Thomas Beckett. With his head bowed he kept running his fingers back and forth over the name as if trying to commit the very feel of the engraved letters in his memory.

Al silently stood watching Sam until he finally murmured something – Al wasn't sure if it was "I'm sorry" or "I miss you" before he rose to his feet and turned to face Al. He silently nodded his thanks to Al before turning and walking out of the Memorial.

Neither of them said anything until they'd left the Wall behind them and were walking in the direction of the Washington Monument. "Thanks for coming with me, Al," Sam finally said.

"Anytime, Kid." Al looked up to the sky which had, if possible, grown grayer and pulled the collar of his coat tighter as the wind picked up and the rain came down heavier. "Maybe we should head out of this weather now, head on back to the hotel."

Sam also pulled his coat tighter around his body and looked thoughtfully up at the monument in front of him before turning to answer Al. "You go on ahead. I think I just want to walk for a while. Take some time to think."

"What, you can't think in a nice warm, dry place?" Al chuckled. "C'mon, you should head back to the hotel with me. This cold and wet isn't good to be out in unless you're trying for another case of bronchitis and please, don't do me any favors 'cause you were no treat the last time."

Sam smiled sheepishly at the reminder of the illness he'd suffered through just a couple of months ago. It was during his illness that he'd first confided in Al the nature of his brother's death and that was why he'd asked Al to accompany him today. "Don't worry, Al, I'm not going to get sick just because it's raining out. You don't have to mother me, you know. I do have a one who can do that just fine."

"Yeah, Sam, I know you have a mother to do it. Remember, she's the one who made me promise I'd look out for you since she's not around and there's no way I'm going back on that. Your Mom's one tough lady and I don't want to be tangling with her."

Sam only laughed at the description of his mother. "You just need to get to know her better, Al, and then you can work around her."

"Oh yeah, like you do that so well."

"Well," Sam answered with a laugh, "I'm still working on it myself. Seriously, Al, go on ahead. I'll be fine. Trust me."

"Fine, Sam, but when you're hacking up a lung again don't think I'm not going to say 'told you so' 'cause I am. I'm going to see if I can catch a cab and get somewhere warm and dry."

"I'll see you back at the hotel then," Sam replied.

Al turned to head toward Constitution Avenue to look for a cab while Sam started to cross 17th Street heading toward the Washington Monument. Al turned to look back to Sam and saw that the younger man was crossing the street with his head tucked down to keep the rain off of his face and his hands in his pockets. In that position he was unable to see the car that came speeding around the corner headed right at him.

"Sam!" Al yelled out in warning.

Sam had partially turned toward Al when he heard his name yelled. Unfortunately, Al's warning shout didn't come with enough time for Sam to get out of the way of oncoming car.

Al watched sickened as the car struck his friend; his body rolling up the hood of the car and striking the windshield with enough force to shatter it before rolling off to land in the street. The car kept going without any hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

Al stood frozen to the spot for a second before running over to where his friend lay in the street. From the way the car had hit Sam, Al was sure he would find him dead. When he came to a stop and knelt down next to him he was shocked to see that not only was Sam still alive but, amazingly, he was still conscious and trying to push himself up off the street.

Al put out a hand to push Sam back down but was unsure where to touch him without hurting him more. "Easy, Sam. Stay still. C'mon, you gotta stay still until help gets here." Although Sam was conscious he didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings. He weakly kept fighting Al trying to get up and kept moaning in pain.

Al looked up and realized how nearly deserted the street was. With the exception of a jogger on the other side of the street who was looking across horrified, Al didn't see anyone else in sight at the moment.

"You," he yelled across to the jogger, "call an ambulance fast."

The jogger nodded to indicate that he'd heard Al before running off for a phone.

Once Al was sure the jogger was on his way to get help he turned his attention back to Sam who was still weakly trying to get up. "Hang in there, Buddy, help's gonna be here soon." He tried to look clinically at Sam to try to assess what his injuries might be but found he couldn't do that very easily. The right side of Sam's face was covered in blood coming from the laceration on his head from striking the windshield. Al took a guess that, based on the awkward angle Sam's left leg was bent at, it was most likely broken. He was sure that there were probably more injuries that he couldn't see.

He stood up quickly and stripped off his coat which he laid over Sam in an attempt to keep him warm. Kneeling back beside Sam he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and pressed the square of cloth to the laceration on the injured man's head in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

Sam's hazel eyes were glazed with pain and were tracking back and forth without really seeming to focus on anything. He was still moaning softly from the pain though he'd finally stopped struggling to get up. His eyes finally seemed to lock onto Al's face and focus there for a while.

"Al?" came the soft, pain-filled voice.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm right here. Just lay still and help'll be here before you know it."

"Hurts, Al."

"I know, Sam. I know it hurts. You just gotta hang on, ok? Just hang on."

"'M tired," Sam murmured as he struggled to keep his eyes open and locked on Al's worried face. "Wanna sleep." He was quickly losing the battle to remain conscious and his eyes began to slide shut.

"Sam," Al called. "Stay awake, now. Stay with me. Do you hear me?"

Sam didn't appear to hear Al nor did he open his eyes again. Al again called out to him this time shaking his shoulder just the slightest. This time Al's voice seemed to reach Sam and he again opened his eyes and tried to focus on Al.

Al was somewhat relieved when he once again saw Sam's unfocused gaze turned on him. If the laceration on Sam's head was any indication, he most likely had a pretty nasty head injury and Al knew it would be for the best to keep him conscious for as long as possible.

He quickly glanced up hoping to see the ambulance pulling up and was surprised to see that a small knot of people had now gathered around them. He'd been so intent on Sam that he hadn't noticed anyone else. Off in the distance he could hear the wail of siren and prayed that it was headed toward them.

"Just hang on, Sam. They're almost here."

A soft, pain-filled moan was his only answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam heard Al shout his name and turned to look to see what the matter was. He'd only turned part way toward Al's voice when the car hit him. The world seemed to turn end over end until he was finally lying in the street.

It took a moment for the pain to register but when it did it became his whole world. He was sure that if he could just get up he could get away from the pain but something kept pushing him back every time he tried. The world around him was hazy and out of focus and all he could hear was a roaring in his ears. He just wanted to get away from the pain but the more he tried, the more it hurt.

Finally, he laid still hoping that if he did the pain would just go away on its own. It didn't. He thought he heard voices or maybe just one voice but he couldn't be sure. Hadn't someone called his name before the pain struck? He thought it was that same voice he was hearing now.

He felt something soft covering his body and was grateful for it as the cold from the ground began to seep through. Some small, clinical part of his mind supplied that it wasn't just the cold – it was shock. Part of the pain seemed to change as the pain in his head was accompanied by pressure as something was placed on him there. It gave him something to focus and lock on to.

His vision was drawn to the blurry face hovering over him and he tried to bring the face into focus but no matter what, it stayed blurry. "Al?" he finally asked. Al had been with him before whatever it was had happened so he was sure that had to be who was with him now.

The voice sounded like Al though through his pain, Sam wasn't able to really distinguish the words. The pain seemed to be everywhere and he longed to just escape it. He tried to tell the voice, Al, about the pain but wasn't sure if he was even making sense. Nothing seemed to be making sense to him. He was getting so tired now. Maybe if he slept it would be gone when he woke up. Yeah, he'd just close his eyes and just rest for a little while then things would be better.

He felt his eyes slip closed and was willingly giving up the tenuous hold he'd been keeping on consciousness when the voice called out to him again and shook him. The voice told him to stay so he struggled again to pull his eyes open and lock onto the face over his, but it was so hard.

Everything seemed to alternately slow down and speed up then and he wasn't really sure of anything that was happening – not that he had been. It seemed as if there were suddenly more people and more voices calling out to him, poking and prodding him. Something pricked his arm and something was wrapped around his neck. Lights were shown in his eyes. The pain never receded though.

Just when he didn't think the pain couldn't get any worse someone touched his leg and then they were moving it. The pain seemed to double and triple and he could hear someone screaming. Just before giving into the blessed oblivion of darkness he realized that he was the one screaming. Then the darkness took him away and the pain finally left.


	4. Chapter 4

Al let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the ambulance got there. Sam was now that much closer to getting the help he so desperately needed. He didn't even protest much as he was firmly but politely pushed away from Sam.

A police officer who had responded with the ambulance took the opportunity to question Al about what had happened. Al quickly and succinctly told the officer what he had seen ending off with, "the bastard didn't even slow down after he'd hit him. He just kept going."

"Can you describe what the vehicle looked like, Sir?" the officer asked.

"Um, it was a dark blue color, a late model, I think." Al was distracted from what he was telling the police officer when a particularly loud moan came from Sam. "Look, do you think we can do this later."

"Sure, Sir," the officer replied. "First, though, did you happen to see any of the license number?"

"No, I didn't. Like I said, he was going too damned fast. The windshield's going to be shattered, though." Another moan of pain drew Al's attention to Sam yet again. "Look, I'd really like to be with my friend right now."

The officer nodded his understanding and moved on to talk to the jogger to get whatever information he was able to give.

Al went back over to Sam and knelt down on his right side and tried to stay out of the way of the EMT's who were trying to do their job as efficiently as possible. Somehow, Sam was still maintaining his hold on consciousness though he didn't appear to really be aware of what was going on around him. "Can't you give him anything for the pain?" Al asked.

"We're sorry, Sir, but right now we don't know the extent of the head injury so it could be dangerous to give him anything," the younger of the two EMT's answered as she started an IV in Sam's arm. Once the IV was established she handed the bag over to Al to hold. He supposed she was trying to make him feel useful but also keep him out of her way.

Her partner had already bandaged up the laceration on Sam's head and was in the process of putting a cervical collar on him. Until the hospital had cleared Sam of any neck or back injuries no one was taking any chances.

For the most part Al didn't understand much of the medical jargon going back and forth between the two EMT's and whoever was on the other end of the radio. He did know that it couldn't be a good thing when they said that Sam's pressure was low and that he had diminished breath sounds on his left side. His face must have reflected his confusion because the female EMT, O'Brien her nametag said, clarified for him. "He's probably got a collapsed lung and could be bleeding internally and he's in shock. We're doing everything we can for him and we're going to get him to GW ASAP."

"O'Brien," her partner called out to her. "We're gonna have to splint that leg before we can get him on a backboard."

"Right, Hank. Look, he's gonna be in a world of hurt as soon as we touch that leg and there's nothing we can give him right now. You think you can keep him calm?" she asked Al.

Al couldn't believe his friend could possibly be in more pain than he already was and started wishing he had just let Sam pass out earlier. He licked his suddenly dry lips and nodded. "Yeah, I'll try to keep as calm as I can."

Al shifted so he was kneeling closer to Sam's head. He rested his hand on top of Sam's head, careful to avoid the bandages, and started talking quietly to him. He knew what he was saying was complete nonsense but only cared about keeping Sam as still and quiet as possible. As soon as O'Brien and her partner touched and began to manipulate Sam's leg his eyes widened and he screamed from behind the oxygen mask.

Al kept talking soothingly to him to calm him down but couldn't seem to reach him through the pain. Finally the scream cut off as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he finally lost his hold on consciousness.

Al didn't know whether he should be relieved that Sam had slipped into unconsciousness and escaped the pain or if he should worry more. He really didn't have time to debate with himself since as soon as Sam's leg was splinted Hank and O'Brien started to roll him over onto the backboard. As soon as he was strapped down on it they lifted it up onto the stretcher. O'Brien took the IV bag from Al's grasp and tucked it under Sam's left shoulder before they started to move the stretcher to the ambulance.

"Where are you taking him," Al asked climbing to his feet and following behind.

Neither of the EMT's slowed their progress but O'Brien did turn back to answer Al. "George Washington Medical."

"I'm riding with you." The way Al said it, it wasn't a request but instead was a statement of fact.

They'd reached the ambulance by then and were lifting the stretcher up into it. "Fine," O'Brien said, "but you stay outta my way."

Al nodded his acquiesce before climbing in the ambulance behind her. As soon as he was in the ambulance Hank slammed the doors shut before running up to the front of the ambulance.


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed just a matter of minutes before the ambulance pulled up at George Washington Medical. Sam had been whisked away behind the doors of the emergency bay and Al had been forced into the waiting room. He sat there now staring down at the clipboard of forms he'd been handed to fill out. It felt like he had been sitting there for hours but he doubted it really had been that long. He glanced up quickly at the clock on the opposite wall and was surprised to see that it was only 10:00. Less than an hour and a half had gone by since he and Sam had been at the Wall.

He looked back down to the sheaf of forms and sighed before trying to fill out the rest of the information on them. He paused when he reached the part asking for Sam's next of kin before slowly filling in his name. He'd felt funny and little reluctant when Sam had first broached the subject a couple of years ago that he wanted to list A as his next of kin with regards to any medical matters. He didn't understand why Sam would want to do that since he had both his mother and his sister. Sam had explained to him that since they were working on the same project and his mother and sister were both all the way in Hawaii it would just make more sense. Besides, Sam had reasoned, what's the likelihood of Al ever having to use it.

No matter who was listed as Sam's medical next of kin, he still had to call Thelma Beckett and let her know what had happened to her son. She was his mother and it was her right to know what had happened to her son. He probably should have done that already but wanted to wait until he could give her more information.

He was just rising from his seat to return the stack of forms to the nurse at the desk and also to find out how Sam was doing when a doctor came out through the doors Sam has been taken through and asked if there was anyone there for Sam. Al hurried over to him dropping the forms off on the desk on his way by it.

"How's Sam? Is he gonna be ok?"

"Mr.….."

"Calavicci, Al Calavicci."

"Mr. Calavicci," the doctor said leading Al over to a quiet corner of the waiting room and indicating that he should sit before taking a seat himself. "My name is Dr. Carsons – I've been treating Mr. Beckett since he was brought in. May I ask what your relationship to Mr. Beckett is?"

"I'm a friend," Al said.

"Does Mr. Beckett have any family close by?"

"His mother and sister are both out in Hawaii. I'm the closest the Kid's got to family here. How is he? What's wrong?"

"Well, Mr. Calavicci, as strange as this might sound, Mr. Beckett is quite a lucky man," Dr. Carsons began.

"Lucky!" Al interrupted him. "In case you missed it, Doc, he got hit by a car. I don't think I'd call that lucky."

"No, Mr. Calavicci, you're correct. What I mean, though, is that given what I was told about the accident, Mr. Beckett's injuries are much less severe than they could have been. By all rights, from what I've been told, it's a wonder he wasn't killed. Now that's not to say he hasn't suffered serious injuries. Most of the injuries are on the left side of his body. I was told that's where the car struck him."

Al nodded to indicate what the doctor has said was correct.

"He has fractured ribs on his left side. One of them punctured his left lung. That was causing his difficulty breathing. We've got a chest tube in place and that's going to help the lung to re-inflate. The tear itself isn't severe enough to require surgery."

Al breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Sam wouldn't need surgery to repair the damage to his lung but his relief was short-lived.

"Our biggest concern right now is that he's bleeding internally. I suspect that his spleen has ruptured but we're not going to know that definitely until he's in surgery. They're moving him right now. If the damage is minor, the surgeon will be able to repair it. If not, he'll most likely remove the spleen."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Al interrupted, "can he live if you do that?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Calavicci. He'll be able to survive without it. At the most he might find he's a little more prone to catching colds and such than he was but he'll be able to live a completely normal life."

"Ok. So what else is wrong? His leg looked pretty messed up."

"Mr. Beckett fractured his left femur. Luckily it looks like a clean break about 5-6 inches above his knee. The orthopedic on call will evaluate the break while Mr. Beckett's in surgery and will, most likely, reduce and correct the fracture then. The only other injury of import that Mr. Beckett suffered was a concussion and laceration along the right side of his scalp. The x-rays showed no signs of a skull fracture and right now we're not seeing any other signs of a serious neurological injury although we are going to be monitoring him for any since it can sometimes take sometime for them to show up. There's no sign of any kind of spinal trauma and the EMT's said that he was moving on his own when they got to the scene. Trust me, Mr. Calavicci, based on the description I was given of the accident, that's pretty miraculous."

"Well, thank God for that," Al sighed. "So, he's gonna be ok, then?"

"Barring any substantial complications I'd say Mr. Beckett should make a complete recovery. It's going to take sometime, though. Given the accident he was in the injuries could have been worse – they probably should have been– but that doesn't mean he's gotten off lightly. It's going to take a while for him to recover completely."

Dr. Carsons stood up ready to go back into the emergency room and Al stood with him. "He's going to be in surgery for a while, Mr. Calavicci. You might want to go back to your hotel. We can call you when he's out."

"No, I think I'd rather wait here right now. I have to call his mother and sister, anyway, tell them what happened. I don't know how I'm gonna tell them this one."

"If you'd like to stay, then, the surgical waiting room is on the 4th floor. There's a phone in there that you can use."

"Thanks, Doc," Al said putting out his hand to shake Dr. Carsons' hand. "I'll head up there now."

Dr. Carsons nodded to Al before walking back into the emergency room.

Al stood where he was for a few seconds staring down at the floor before drawing in a deep breath and heading for the elevator to go up to the 4th floor. He wasn't looking forward to the upcoming phone call.

Just before he stepped into the elevator a nurse came out of the emergency room doors and headed in his direction.

"Excuse me, sir," she said. "Are you here with Mr. Beckett?"

"Yeah, I am," Al answered. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no sir. I just wanted to give you Mr. Beckett's personal belongings. He had these in his pocket," she said handing Al a wallet and key ring. "We had to cut his clothes off him so there's really not much left of them."

Al took the wallet and key ring from her and stuffed them in his coat pocket. "Thanks," he said before turning and getting into the elevator.


	6. Chapter 6

Once he'd reached the surgical waiting room, Al had poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that was kept in there. He sat down and sampled the coffee before reaching into his pocked for his wallet and pulling out the card where he'd written down phone numbers. One of those numbers was for Sam's mother. He toyed with the idea of putting off the phone call just a little longer using the excuse that it was still early morning in Hawaii but found that that argument just wouldn't hold any weight. Thelma Beckett had spent a good deal of her life on a farm and was no stranger to early mornings.

Still, he knew that hearing the phone ring before 6:00 in the morning would be enough to worry anyone. Then again, in this instance there was something to worry about.

He resolutely picked up the phone, dialed 9 for an outside line and then dialed the number that would put him in touch with Sam's mother. He listened to the ringing on the other end and realized he didn't know how to break the news to her. He figured it would probably be best to just be straight forward and honest with her. If there's one thing he'd learned about Thelma Becket it was that she had an excellent BS meter and it was almost impossible to get anything by her.

The 3rd ring was just completing when he heard a voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello?" said the somewhat wary, female voice.

"Hi, could I speak to Mrs. Thelma Beckett, please?"

"This is she."

"Mrs. Beckett, this Al Calavicci." Al didn't get out anything more before Thelma interrupted him.

"Admiral? What's wrong? What's happened to Sam and don't lie to me because you wouldn't be calling at this hour of the morning if something hadn't happened to him. Tell me the truth."

Al covered his eyes with his free hand. He knew there'd be no getting anything by Thelma – she didn't even give him the chance to try.

"No, Mrs. Beckett, I'm not going to lie to you. Sam's been in an accident."

A sharp gasp from the other end followed this announcement. "Oh God, is he…is he….?" She couldn't finish the question for fear that her worst fears would be met and she'd be told her son was dead.

Al knew exactly what the words were that Thelma couldn't bring herself to say and hastened to reassure her that he wasn't calling to tell her that her worst fear had come true. "Oh, no. No, Mrs. Beckett. Sam's not dead. There's been and accident, though, and he is in the hospital."

"Oh, thank God. What happened? Where are you?"

"We're in Washington, DC right now, Ma'am. Sam was hit by car. Now he's hurt pretty badly but the doctor's confident that he's gonna pull through just fine."

In the background Al could hear another voice talking to Thelma asking who was on the phone and what had happened. Al assumed it was Sam's sister, Katie.

"Admiral, could you excuse me for just a minute?"

"Sure, Mrs. Beckett."

It sounded like the phone was placed down on the counter and he could hear Mrs. Beckett talking with Katie.

"It's Admiral Calavicci. He and your brother are in Washington, DC. Sam's been in an accident – hit by a car. He's in the hospital."

"Mom, here, why don't you sit down. I'll talk to Al and find out what's going on."

He heard the phone picked up and then Katie's voice.

"Al, what's goin' on with Sam? Mom's pretty upset – says he's been in an accident."

"Is she ok, Katie?"

"Yeah, Al, she's ok – just worried. What's going on?"

"Sam was in an accident earlier today, he was hit by a car. He's hurt pretty bad but the doc says he should be ok – he's just gonna need some time."

"Oh God, Al. How bad?"

Al sighed as he launched into a description of the injuries Dr. Carsons had told him about. "He's got a broken leg and he broke some ribs. One of them punctured his lung but Dr. Carsons said it's not really that bad and it'll heal on it's own without surgery. He's bleeding internally, though. The doc thinks it's his spleen so they're operating for that right now. He might need surgery later because of the leg. Other than that he's got a concussion and stitches in his head and a whole lotta bumps and bruises."

"Oh my God. How did it happen, Al?" Katie questioned, her voice rising in concern.

"Katie, you need to calm down so you don't get your mom more upset. The doctor said he's really lucky – he could have been hurt a lot worse." Al left out the part about it being pretty miraculous that Sam wasn't killed in the accident. He didn't think that was a little tidbit of information that Katie or Thelma needed to know right now.

"He was crossing the street and some guy came speeding around the corner. Sam didn't have a chance to get out of the way. The guy didn't even stop. The bastard just kept going after he'd hit him."

"We should be there with him, Al. I'm gonna make reservations for Mom and me to fly out there."

"Hang on a sec, Katie. I know you and your Mom are going to want to be here with Sam but why don't you wait on that. Let's wait 'til he gets out of surgery and see how long he's going to have to be here. We might be able to arrange to have him transferred back to New Mexico and that'll be a quicker flight for you."

"I don't know, Al. I don't think Mom's gonna want to wait."

"I know Katie. Look, at least wait 'til he's out of surgery before you do anything. That way I can let you know how he made out instead of the two of you flying out here not even knowing and worrying the whole flight. How does that sound?"

"Ok, Al. I won't make any flight reservations until we hear back from you."

"Ok, honey. I'd tell you not to worry but I know that's gonna be impossible. I'm gonna stay here with Sam, though, so don't worry about him being alone."

"Thanks, Al. Keep us updated when Sam gets out of surgery."

"I will. If you need to get in touch with me in the meantime, I'm in the surgical waiting room on the fourth floor. If you call the hospital they should be able to put you through."

"We will, Al, but just one thing – you didn't tell me what hospital Sam's at."

"Oh geez, sorry. It's George Washington University Hospital."

"Ok. Keep in touch with us, Al."

"I will Katie and try not to worry too much. He's gonna be ok – just keep reminding yourselves of that."

"I know, Al. Thanks again and bye."

"Bye, Katie."

Al heard the soft click from the other end of the phone that indicated that Katie had hung up the phone. He sat quietly holding the receiver for a minute before he leaned forward to hang up the phone before standing up and taking off his jacket, throwing it on the chair next to him. As he threw it the objects he'd stuffed in his pocket earlier fell to the floor with a thump.

Sighing Al leaned over to pick up the two objects – Sam's wallet and key ring. He sat back down contemplating them.

The key ring only held a few keys but it was the flat pewter disc that drew Al's attention. One side of it had a raised caduceus on it which had been worn down in some areas from age. The other side had a simple inscription on it:

_Sam,_

_I'm so proud._

_Love Mom_

_5-28-76_

Thelma had given the key ring to Sam when he received his first doctorate – medicine. For as long as Al had known Sam he'd always carried it in his pocket. Many times when Sam was nervous or upset he'd either pull out the keychain and rub his thumb over the raised symbol on it or, if he was in a situation where taking it out of his pocket wasn't to his advantage Sam's hand would always slip into the pocket where he carried his keys. Al always supposed it gave Sam a sense of security and closeness with his mother. Funny how now at a time when that security would be most needed he was deprived of it.

Al rubbed his thumb over the raised symbol on the disk a few times before tucking it into his own pocket. As soon as he was able he would return the talisman back to Sam.

He then turned his attention to Sam's wallet. It was simple nylon wallet, the kind that could be had in any department store for a couple of dollars. The wallet had also been a gift to Sam. Al had given it to him shortly after he'd joined the Starbright program.

It had been a joke at the time. Sam never carried a wallet and instead would stuff whatever he had – money, license, credit cards – into his pockets. Al was always amazed that he never managed to lose anything and would always get impatient while Sam went digging through his pockets for whatever it was that he needed. One day Al presented him with the nylon wallet and told Sam it was to help him start to get organized. Sam had laughed at the gift but he'd thanked Al for it. Al didn't know if it was sentimentality that led Sam to still use the wallet or just practicality.

He slipped his finger under the Velcro closure of the wallet and opened it and started to flip through the pictures that Sam had slipped into it over the years. There was a copy of the picture of Tom and Sam that had pride of place on Sam's desk, a picture from his graduation from M.I.T. with his parents, Katie's wedding picture, the newest picture of his niece and, at the very back, a picture of Donna Eleese, the woman who'd left him at the altar. Tucked behind the picture of Donna was a slip of paper and Al worked it free and unfolded it. It was a short note – I'm sorry, Sam – written in a very feminine handwriting. It was the note that she'd sent Sam after she'd walked out on him. For all outward appearances anyone would think that Sam had gotten past Donna and, for the most part, he had. The picture and note, though, were the two things that pointed out that he still held a place in his heart for her.

Under the photos Al saw that all of Sam's credit cards – well, all two of them – were still in their slots. He glanced quickly into the slot for cash and saw that what little Sam had been carrying was still there. A wistful smile graced Al's features as he thought back on some of the conversations he and Sam had had about the amount of cash Sam tended to carry…or rather the lack of it.

It hadn't taken too many times when the two friends had gone out for dinner or to just relax before Al had learned that when it came time to pay the bill the same series of events would happen. Sam would pull out his wallet, look at how much money he had on him and then, much chagrined, ask if Al could loan him enough money to cover his share of dinner. Without fail Sam always paid back what he owed Al it was just that for some reason it never occurred to Sam to carry more than just a couple of dollars cash on him. Many times Al had told him that he'd have to arrange a personal meeting between Sam and some dead presidents.

Al closed the wallet back up making sure the note from Donna was tucked safely inside. He put it in his own pocket for safekeeping along with the key ring.


	7. Chapter 7

It was well along in the afternoon before anyone came in to update Al on Sam's condition. In that time Al had emptied out the pot of coffee – not bad considering it was hospital coffee - leafed through all of the out of date magazines, and stared mindlessly at the daytime talk shows on the TV in the corner. Finally a doctor, still wearing surgical scrubs, came in.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Calavicci?" the doctor asked.

Al grabbed up the remote to the TV quickly switching it off while answering the doctor. "I'm Calavicci. Do you have news about Sam?"

"Mr. Calavicci, I'm Dr. Gleason. Why don't we sit down?"

Al warily resumed the seat he'd been sitting in before. When doctors told you to sit down it generally didn't mean good news.

Dr. Gleason must have suspected that was what Al was thinking because he hastened to reassure him, "Don't worry Mr. Calavicci, I'm not here to give you bad news. I've just been standing for a couple of hours now and I could really use a few minutes sitting down."

Al was somewhat mollified by the doctor's reassurance but wouldn't be completely so until he'd heard how Sam had made it through the surgery.

"We stopped the bleeding although we did have to remove his spleen. It took a little longer than usual because I wanted to make sure we didn't miss anything. I'd rather not have to subject him to additional surgery later because we missed a bleeder now. Right now Dr. Childs is finishing up the surgical procedure to stabilize the fractured femur. She should be done within the next hour – hour and a half and then Mr. Beckett will be moved to recovery."

"So, he's ok, then, or at least he will be?" Al questioned.

"Given time he should make a complete recovery. Right now I'm listing his condition as serious, but stable. He's young and generally healthy so that's all in his favor. He came through the surgery with no complications and I really don't foresee any."

Al released a sigh of relief before launching into his next question. "When can I see him?"

"Once he's in recovery he'll be there for several hours. We'll want to monitor him closely to be sure he's coming out of the anesthesia and that his breathing isn't being compromised. I don't see any need for him to go to ICU so he'll be moved directly to a step-down unit from recovery unless something comes up.

"He most likely won't be moved to his room until some time this evening – most probably after visiting hours have ended. I understand you've been here since Mr. Beckett was brought in. Why don't you go home and get yourself something to eat and get some rest yourself. Come back later this evening once he's moved and I'll make sure that you're able to see him for a little bit. Better yet, why don't you come back tomorrow morning when you're well-rested. I doubt Mr. Beckett will really be lucid enough this evening to know if you're there or not."

"No," Al said. "I'm not going to wait until tomorrow morning. I've got to call his mother and sister and let them know how he's doing. I'd rather be able to tell them that I've seen him even if he doesn't know I'm there. I'm gonna go back to the hotel but I'll be back later this evening to see him."

"You're not from around here, then?" Dr. Gleason asked.

"No," Al answered. "We flew in from New Mexico day before yesterday for business. We were supposed to fly out last night but Sam wanted to stay an extra day. Now I'm wishing I'd talked him out of it."

"It's a tough break," Dr. Gleason said rising, "but it's not going to help Mr. Beckett or you to second guess that decision. Go on back to your hotel and get some rest. Leave your number with the nurse at the desk and if there's any change in Mr. Beckett's condition before you get back we'll call you."

"Thanks, Doc," Al said rising to shake the doctor's hand.

"You're welcome. If you have any questions, just let me know," Dr. Gleason said before leaving the waiting room.

Al watched the doctor leave before turning to grab his jacket and follow the doctor out of the waiting room.


	8. Chapter 8

After stopping to get something to eat Al headed back to his hotel room. First he made a quick stop in Sam's room to grab his luggage and moved it to his own room. Sam wouldn't need the room for a while so it didn't make any sense to keep it.

Once in his room he called Thelma to update her on Sam's condition. Though worried she took the news quite calmly. He also talked with Katie and they decided that she and Thelma would fly out to Washington the next day.

Once he was through with the phone call he headed down to the hotel's front desk. He explained to the manager on duty what had happened and arranged to have the stay on his room extended indefinitely. He also transferred the room that Sam had been in over to Katie's name with an indefinite stay as well.

It was just a little after 8:00 now and he was headed back to the hospital. They'd called him just after 7:30 to let him know that Sam had been moved into a private room. According to the nurse that Al had talked to, Sam was still drifting in and out of consciousness but was doing as well as could be expected at this point. Over time Al would find he was going to grow to hate those words – as well as can be expected.

When he got to Sam's room he got his first look at him since the accident and he was shocked by what he saw. The bed was tilted up at about a 45 degree angle and Sam appeared to be sleeping. His skin was a pasty white color except for the bruises that dotted his body. There were dark smudges of color under his eyes which seemed to be sunken in.

The room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor and gurgle of the pump that was helping to keep Sam's lung for collapsing again. Al was relieved to see that although there was a nasal canula supplying oxygen to Sam he was breathing on his own. Tubes snaked down to both of Sam's arms from the IV on one side and the blood transfusion on the other. A larger tube appeared from under the blankets connected to pump. Al grimaced when he thought about where the other end of the tube was. When he noticed the other tube also snaking out from under the blankets connected to the bag collecting fluids he grimaced even more at the thought of where the other end of it was. Now there was something that Sam should be glad he was blissfully unaware of.

Sam's leg was elevated above the bed. Al supposed it was to keep any excess swelling in check. He's had the opportunity to speak to the orthopedic surgeon over the phone after she'd finished repairing Sam's leg. She had to put in a rod to stabilize the fracture. Because of the surgical site as well as the type of break, she'd explained to Al that it wouldn't be practical or feasible to put a cast on Sam's leg. Dr. Childs had told him that, instead, a brace would be used to keep Sam's leg immobilized and also allow access to the surgical site.

Al approached the bed and rested his hand over Sam's and noticed how chilled his skin was. He'd never understood why it was that hospitals were kept so cold.

To Al, Sam appeared to be a pale shadow of the healthy, vibrant man he'd been this morning. Helpless wasn't a word Al would easily associate with Sam Beckett but looking at him lying so still among the medical machinery it was the first word that came to Al's mind - helpless and fragile.

"Hey, Sammy," Al said softly. "You really did it this time, didn't you, Kid?"

At the sound of Al's voice Sam's head turned slightly in that direction and a soft moan escaped his lips. The hand that was under Al's flexed slightly.

"Sam?" Al asked. "You gonna wake up for me here?"

Sam moaned again before his eye lids opened lazily revealing his glassy and confused eyes.

"Hey, there you are," Al said overly brightly. "You've had me worried, Kid. It's good to see your eyes opened."

Sam blinked up lazily at Al. He might have been awake but it was pretty clear to Al that Sam's mental pilot light hadn't been turned on yet.

Sam's only reply to Al was a soft "Al" before his eyes closed again and he slipped back to sleep.

Al softly patted the hand under his, "Rest, Sam. I'll be here when you wake up again."

He pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down next to Sam. He was determined to stay until his friend woke up again and to hell with when visiting hours ended.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam knew this wasn't the first time that he'd woken up but he couldn't remember the other times. The first thing that struck him was the smell. It was a smell he recognized from his days as a resident. A hospital, he was in a hospital. Why he was here, though, he couldn't remember. He was pretty sure that it wasn't in the capacity of a doctor.

He had a vague impression of feeling pain earlier – a deep, all-consuming pain. It was still there even now but it was so vague and so peripheral he was able to ignore it - for now. Eventually he knew it would break through whatever barrier it was that was keeping it at bay but, until then, he wasn't going to think about it. He couldn't really think about anything right now anyway. It was nearly impossible for him to hold a thought in his mind for more than a second or two.

He felt a warm pressure on his hand. It was the only part of him that felt warm right now. And he heard a voice. It was a voice he recognized though right now his foggy mind couldn't put the name to it. The Voice was asking him a question. The Voice gave him a feeling of security and he didn't want it to go away. It probably would if he didn't let it know that he was awake.

He turned his head toward the Voice and tried to answer it although he was fairly certain what came out of his mouth was gibberish. He tried to lift his hand to reach out to the Voice but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The Voice came again asking a question. Sam? That was his name wasn't it? Yes, he was certain of that. It wanted to know if he was going to wake up. He tried to say yes but again he knew that the sound coming out of his mouth wasn't anywhere near distinguishable as English. If he couldn't verbally tell the Voice that he was awake he'd have to show it.

He struggled to open his eyes and was finally successful at something. Now he could see the face that matched the Voice. He blinked a few times trying to bring everything into focus. He knew that face. Al. It was Al.

Al was talking to him again and he tried to concentrate, to understand what he was saying but it was so hard. Al looked worried so something bad must have happened. He wished he could remember what it was. It had to involve him, though. Otherwise why would he be in a hospital and why would Al look so worried if it didn't?

He wanted to reassure Al that he was fine – or that he would be fine – but it was so hard to even think. Sleep was starting to beckon to him again and it was just too hard to resist. He wanted Al to know that he knew he was there, though. He forced himself to say Al's name and this time he was certain the sound that left his mouth actually did make sense. Then he couldn't resist the tug of sleep anymore and closed his eyes and gave in to it. Just before it fully carried him away he felt Al pat his hand and tell him to rest. And there was a promise. A promise that Al would be there the next time he woke.


	10. Chapter 10

It was about an hour later when a nurse came into the room. Al had been staring off into the middle-distance and was startled when he felt her hand resting on his shoulder.

I'm sorry, Admiral. I called your name several times but you seemed to be off somewhere else.

"No, no, that's all right. I guess my mind was wandering. Is there something wrong?" Al asked. It did puzzle him slightly that the nurse addressed him by his rank. He didn't recall telling anyone at the hospital that he was an admiral and wondered if he knew here from somewhere. She didn't look familiar to him, though.

"Oh no, nothing's wrong at all. I was just coming to tell you there was a phone call for you. You can take it at the nurse's desk."

"Oh, well, thanks. I'll…uh…I'll be right back."

Al headed out the door of Sam's room but took a second to look back over his shoulder at the nurse who was now busying herself checking on Sam. He couldn't help but to admire her fine form. Being laid up in a hospital bed could have its advantages. He was sure if he had met her he'd remember. Whoever was on the phone must have asked for him by his rank. .

He approached the nurse's desk and asked the nurse stationed there about a phone call. She showed him over to the phone he could take the call on.

"This is Calavicci," he said.

"Admiral," the voice on the other began, "this is Jim Bonnick, Katie's husband."

"Jim, hi, how are you? Are Katie and Mrs. Beckett having trouble getting a flight into Washington?"

"Well, no, not exactly, Admiral. You see, that's why I'm calling. They won't be flying out tomorrow."

Al realized that Jim sounded apprehensive, like a man who had bad news and didn't know how to give it.

"What's going on, Jim, something wrong."

Jim let out a sigh. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We're at the hospital right now. Mom was packing some stuff to fly out tomorrow and she started to get chest pains. We rushed her to the hospital and right now we're not sure how bad it is. The doctor hasn't come out to talk to us yet. Katie's pretty upset right now – first Sam and now her mother. She wanted me to call you right away and let you know what's going on."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me know, Jim. Geez, how the heck am I gonna tell Sam this – if he's even in any condition to hear it."

"I'm sorry to have to put this on you, Admiral."

Al blew out a breath, "No, Jim, it's no one's fault. I'll talk to Sam's doctor and see what he thinks we should tell Sam right now. We're gonna have to tell him something because he's going to wonder eventually. Look, keep me updated with what's going on at your end and I'll let you know how Sam's doing."

"I will, Admiral."

Both men hung up without saying goodbye. Al stood staring at the phone with his hand on it for a few minutes. This had turned into one screwed up day. He wasn't sure what it was Sam had done to piss off fate but it seemed like today she was demanding that he pay her back – with interest.

As he turned to walk away from the phone he saw the nurse who'd told him he had the phone call walk out of Sam's room and waved her over to him.

"Do you know if Dr. Gleason is still on call?" he asked when she was near enough.

"He should be going off shift soon but I'm certain he hasn't left yet. I can have him paged if you'd like," she offered.

"That would be great. I'll wait for him in Sam's room."

Al was just resuming his seat next to Sam's bed when he heard the page for Dr. Gleason. Right now Al found that he was selfishly happy that Sam was still sleeping. As long as he was, Al wouldn't have to lie to him or, worse yet, tell him about his mother.

About 10 minutes later he heard the door to Sam's room open and turned to see Dr. Gleason walking in the room. "Admiral Calavicci?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were an Admiral earlier. Nurse Davis just told me."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Al said brushing the doctor's earlier faux pas off. "Look, is there somewhere that we can go to talk. I don't want to take a chance of Sam overhearing us right now."

"Sure," Dr. Gleason said opening the door and gesturing Al to follow him. "There's a small consultation room down the hall. We can go there."

"That sounds great," Al said following the doctor down to the room.

"Is there a problem?" Dr. Gleason asked once they were in the consultation room

"You could say," Al said slouching into a chair. "Sam's mother and sister were supposed to be flying out from Hawaii tomorrow to be with him. Sam's brother-in-law just called to say they won't be able to fly out. Sam's mother started having chest pains and she's in the hospital now. They don't know how bad it is. Sam's going to have to be told sooner or later. I thought it best to run it by you first – make sure he's ready for this kind of news."

Doctor Gleason took the seat opposite Al and was quiet for a moment. "Has Mrs. Beckett had any cardiac problems in the past or is this something that would come as a surprise to Mr. Beckett?"

"She hasn't had any problems before this that I know of. I'm sure Sam would have said something if she had. His dad died fairly young from a massive heart attack. I've got a feeling when Sam finds out about his mother that's going to be on his mind. I didn't know Sam when his dad died but, from what he's told me, he took it pretty hard. I can't imagine it being any different with his mom."

"Right now, though, we don't know what her condition is," Dr. Gleason clarified. "It could have been a heart attack or it could just be angina."

Al nodded to agree with the doctor and to encourage him to go on.

"I don't think it would be in Sam's best interest right now to tell him what's happened with his mother – especially without knowing for sure. He's still not completely lucid so I don't think if we did tell him he'd understand but it could still upset him more than I'd like right now. I think it would be best to hold off telling him for a couple of days. Let's let him start to recover from the trauma he's suffered before adding to it. It would probably be best if I were there to monitor him, as well, when he's told."

Al leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees looking down at his shoes for a minute before he raised his head to answer Dr. Gleason. "I kind of figured that's what you were going to say. No matter how out of it he might be because of the drugs you're pumping him with and his injuries, he's not that dumb. He's gonna figure out something's wrong since his mother and sister aren't here. I don't want to have to lie to him any more than necessary."

"I understand your reluctance to want to withhold this from him. Trust me, Admiral, right now it's going to be in his best interest to spare him from that kind of emotional trauma right now. It could well be you'll get a call later telling you his mother is fine and on her way home. Until then, I strongly suggest you say nothing to Sam at this point."

"So what do I say if he starts asking?"

"Well, Admiral, Mother Nature might be able to help you out there. I'm sure you haven't been keeping track of the news and weather but it seems there's a rather large and unexpected snowstorm heading our way. It's kind of late for it to be hitting us but Mother Nature does have a way of throwing surprises around. You can always just tell him that the weather's making travel impossible and then you can avoid having to lie to him, per se."

"Isn't it kind of late for a snowstorm?" Al asked.

"You'd think," Dr. Gleason answered, "but stranger things do happen with the weather. It's getting late, Admiral, and visiting hours are long over. Why don't you head back to your hotel and get a good night's rest. Mr. Beckett will be a lot more lucid tomorrow and if he's going to be asking questions like you think you'll want to be well-rested and prepared for it."

Al quickly looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 10:00. "Sorry, Doc. I can't do that yet. I promised Sam I'd be here when he woke up again. I'm not going to break that promise. If you want me to leave, you're going to have to get security."

"Why did I think that would be your answer, Admiral? Ordinarily I'd insist on you leaving but I've got a feeling letting you keep that promise will probably do Sam as much good as the meds he's on. I'll let the nurses know I've cleared you to stay with him for now but, as soon as he's woken up and you've kept that promise I want you out of here. He's got a long road in front of him and he's going to need all the support he can get. You're not going to be able to give it to him if you're keeling over yourself."

"Yeah, thanks, Doc," Al said rising from his seat and heading toward the door.

When he got back to Sam's room he saw that Sam, though still sleeping was tossing his head restlessly on the pillow. Al hoped Sam wasn't going to be subject to a resurgence of the nightmares he'd suffered through a couple of month's ago. He wasn't sure Sam would have the strength to handle that right now.

He rested his hand on the top of Sam's head and softly called his name hoping to either wake him from the dream or settle him into a more restful sleep.

Sam responded almost immediately to Al's voice. His head turned in Al's direction and his eyes slitted open. It took him less time to focus on Al's face than it had earlier.

"Al?" came the soft question. "You're still here."

"Yeah, Sam. I told you I'd be here when you woke up, didn't I?"

"Yeah…always keep…your promises."

"Well, I try. How're you feeling? You need anything for pain?"

Sam swallowed before answering – or tried to. "Thirsty."

As soon as the word passed Sam's lips Al grabbed up the cup of ice chips that had been left on the table near the bed and spooned a few into Sam's mouth.

"Sorry, Buddy. All you can have right now is some ice." He waited until the few chips he'd put in Sam's mouth had melted and he'd swallowed them before giving him a few more. He repeated the process two more times before Sam tried to raise his arm to push the cup away to indicate he'd had enough.

"Are you in any pain right now, Sam?" he asked once he'd put the cup down. "I can get the nurse to give you something for pain if you are."

Sam seemed to take some time to think about the answer before he spoke again. For a moment Al had thought he'd already drifted back to sleep. When he finally did answer Al, Sam's voice was even softer and more slurred than it had been when he'd first woken up. Al had to lean down to hear him.

"Don' feel much o' anything….jus' real tir'd."

"Why don't you close your eyes and go back to sleep then."

Sam responded with a small nod before speaking again. It was just one word but the question it asked tugged at Al.

"Stay?"

"I wish I could, Sam. The doc made me promise I'd only stay until you woke up. It's way past visiting hours already. I promise, though, I'll be back here bright and early tomorrow morning."

Sam was already losing the battle to stay awake, his eyes drifting closed. His answer to Al was barely a breath and Al almost missed it, "'K."

Al stayed standing next to Sam for another couple of minutes until he was sure he'd drifted back into a deep sleep before grabbing his jacket and heading out of Sam's room. He stopped off at the nurse's station on his way out to be sure they had his hotel number and knew to call him if anything changed with Sam. He also told them that Sam was prone to nightmares when he was under stress or under the weather and that there was a pretty good chance he'd suffer a couple before the night was out. Nurse Davis promised that they'd keep an eye out for them.

With nothing more that he could do for Sam at the hospital, Al headed back to his hotel room. He hoped that Sam would be able to sleep peacefully through the night. It would only be fair if one them could. Al didn't think he'd be getting much rest of his own that night.


	11. Chapter 11

True to his word, Al was back at the hospital bright and early the next morning. Well, bright might have been an exaggeration for the day. Clouds still shrouded the city and the bit of weather that Al had caught on the TV before leaving his room that morning had reinforced what Dr. Gleason had told him last night about the impending snowstorm. Al had wanted to make sure he got to the hospital before it started snowing and it prevented him getting there.

He'd called the nurse's desk shortly after he'd gotten up to check on Sam's condition. The nurse on duty told him that Sam had had somewhat of a rough night. As the anesthetic from the surgery had completely worn off, Sam had become more and more aware of the pain and discomfort he was in. The nurse had assured him that this was completely normal and that Sam was doing as well as should be expected at this stage.

He'd no sooner hung up with the hospital when his phone rang. It was Katie updating him on Thelma's condition. He's spoken briefly with her the previous night before going to bed but, at the time, she'd had no more information than Jim had had when he called. This morning she was able to give him more information concerning Thelma's condition. She had had a heart attack and it was pretty serious. Katie had told him that they'd be taking Thelma in later in the day for surgery to put in a pacemaker and that right now she was doing as well as could be expected.

He'd filled her in on Sam's condition, trying to gloss over Sam's restless night. He ended off telling her that, like Thelma, Sam was doing as well as could be expected and that he'd keep her posted of any changes in his condition. He had hung up the phone realizing how much he both hated to hear and to say those words – as well as can be expected.

Before going into Sam's room, he stopped at the nurse's station to see how Sam was. Diane, the nurse on duty at the station told him that Sam was much more coherent than he had been the previous night but that he was also in a lot more pain. They were waiting for Dr. Gleason to call them to readjust Sam's pain meds since they didn't seem to be helping him as much as they should have.

Al pasted a cheerful smile on his face before pushing open the door to Sam's room. The smile very nearly slipped from his face when he got his first good look at Sam. In stark contrast to the almost peaceful look that had been on Sam's face last night while he slept, this morning his face had a pinched, pained expression. He didn't seem to notice Al's entrance in the room as he was staring out the window on the opposite side of the room. His right hand was pulling fretfully at a loose thread on the blanket.

Al crossed over to stand next to the bed and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, careful not to startle him.

"Hi, Sam. You're looking a lot more awake than you were last night."

Sam turned his head on the pillow to face Al. A shadow of smile graced his features but it wasn't enough to either mask the pain he was in or to hide the tears in the corners of his yes.

"Hey, Al."

"What's wrong, Sam?" Al asked seeing the tears?

"Hurts Al. I don't think I've ever hurt this bad before."

"I know, Kid. I just talked to the nurse at the desk, Diane. She said Dr. Gleason should be here any minute and they're gonna readjust you pain meds to help you out more. You just gotta hang in there a little longer."

"I know, Al. It's just frustrating. It hurts so much and no one's telling me what happened – that I have to wait for the doctor."

Before Al could respond to Sam they heard the door to the room open. Al turned to see who was coming in the room and saw that Dr. Gleason had gotten there.

"Guess you don't have to wait anymore, Sam. Here's the doc."

Doctor Gleason came over to the bed. "Admiral, good to see you again," he said shaking Al's hand. "Mr. Beckett, I'm Dr. Gleason," he said extending his hand to Sam. "I hear you're not doing too well this morning. I hope that's not a commentary on my handiwork."

"Dr. Gleason, please, call me Sam. My father was 'Mr. Beckett'."

"Sam it is then. I'm sure you've probably got some questions for me but first let's see what we can do about making you more comfortable. I'm sorry you've been in so much discomfort. Apparently there was an error in the med orders I left. Your pain meds were supposed to be increased when you regained full consciousness but that was somehow omitted. The nurse is bringing in something for you right now."

He'd no sooner got the words out of his mouth when the door opened to admit Diane into the room. She used the hypodermic in her hand to inject something into the IV line snaking into Sam's left arm. "There," she said, once she'd finished. "Give that a few minutes and it should start working."

"Thank you," Sam softly replied.

Once Diane had walked out of the room Dr. Gleason began by asking Sam some questions.

"Can you tell me your full name, Sam?"

"Samuel John Beckett."

"Good. How about your birth date?"

"August 8, 1953. I was born in Elkridge, IN, my mother's name is Thelma my father's name was John. I had a brother Tom and a sister Katie. I think today's March 27 and George Bush is president. Do I pass the neural check?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dr. Gleason let out a chuckle when Sam answered all of his questions before they were asked. "It seems you're familiar with the neural check process. I take it you've had a head injury before."

"No, I'm doctor," Sam flatly stated.

"Ah, I wasn't aware of that. You admittance papers indicated that your profession was physicist."

"I am. I haven't practiced medicine in a while," Sam told Dr. Gleason.

"Well, your medical background should make it a lot easier to explain to you what's happened. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

Sam knitted his brow in concentration trying to remember what it was that had happened. He knew that if it sent him to the hospital it had to have been pretty spectacular but nothing was occurring to him. "The last thing I can clearly remember before waking up here was breakfast at the hotel and going out for a walk with Al. After that everything gets really fuzzy."

"That's quite understandable, Sam. Short term memory loss, as you know, is quite common after a head injury. Late yesterday morning you were involved in a motor vehicle accident."

Al, standing quietly to the side snorted at Dr. Gleason's description of what had happened. "I wouldn't exactly say he was involved in the accident do much as the whole accident. I guess you don't remember getting hit by that car, do you, Sam?"

"No, I don't. Is that what happened?"

"It is. Like I said, it's perfectly normal not to remember the accident itself or even a short span of time leading up to it. Now you may not believe this now considering how you're feeling but you did get off pretty lucky."

Sam's only response to Dr. Gleason's statement of luck was to simply raise his eyebrows.

"There's no evidence of any spinal injuries which is something we'd expect in anaccident of this type. I'm sure, though, you're more interested in what injuries you do have instead of the ones you don't. Given your medical background how about if I just cut to the chase and if you don't understand anything just stop me?"

"Sounds good. Whatever it is you just gave me is starting to work and I don't think I'm going to be able to stay awake long enough for the long explanation anyway."

"Since you were struck on your left side that's where most of the injuries are concentrated. The most serious was a ruptured spleen. You underwent surgery yesterday to stop the internal bleeding and to remove the spleen. I'm sure you've probably already discovered the chest tube. You have 4 fractured ribs on your left side and one of them caused a puncture to the lung. The tear itself isn't too serious so that didn't require any surgical repair. We'll monitor the lung for the next couple of days and as long as it keeps re-expanding there shouldn't be any need to repair the tear surgically. You had a pretty good hit to your head – I'm going to assume, from what Admiral Calavicci's told me about the accident, that it happened when you hit the windshield. There's no skull fracture, though, which is another piece of luck. You've got a moderate concussion from it and I'm betting right now you have a pretty good headache going."

Sam nodded to indicate that the doctor was correct and that he did have a headache. The pain medication that he'd been injected with earlier was starting to make its presence known as Sam was struggling to follow along with list of injuries. Dr. Gleason saw that Sam was starting to drift off and hastened to finish the laundry list of injuries.

"Your left femur was fractured about 5-6 inches above your knee. Dr. Childs, operated on it yesterday as well. She'll be by later today to brief you more on what she did but I know that she inserted a rod into the bone to strengthen it. That about covers everything. Do you have any questions, so far?"

"Uh, no, not right now. Probably later when I'm a little more alert I might."

"Good, good. It looks like the pain med is definitely starting to work. If you had to rate the pain you're in right now on scale of 1-10 with 10 being the worst what would you say it's at right now?"

Sam seemed to have to think about the answer to the question as pain med dulled his senses more and more. "Maybe around a 4 right now.

"Good," said Dr. Gleason. "Now that you're much more comfortable I'd like to examine you and check on the surgical site. Admiral, would you mind stepping outside for just a few moments?"

"Uh yeah, sure. Why don't I go down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee," Al said eager to make a quick escape at the mention of Dr. Gleason checking the surgical site. "You know how I am about the yucky stuff, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly at Al's squeamishness. "Sure Al. I'll be here when you get back," he added trying for a little levity."

Al quickly exited the room not wishing to view Dr. Gleason's handiwork.


	12. Chapter 12

Fifteen minutes later Al returned to Sam's room with the remains of what passed for coffee in the cafeteria. He knocked softly on the door before opening it and poking his head in. Dr. Gleason looked over his should and saw Al in the doorway and waved him in.

"Come on in, Admiral. We're just about finished here," he said as he pulled the blanket back up over Sam.

Al walked over to the bed, going around to the opposite side of Dr. Gleason and looked down at Sam. Although his eyes were still open and he seemed to be awake, Al wasn't certain how in touch he was right now with what was going on around him.

"How's he doing?"

"Everything looks fine, Admiral. Don't worry that he's a bit out of it right now, that's just a side effect from the pain meds he was given earlier. They'll start to wear off in a couple of hours and he'll be much more alert again."

"And in more pain," Al finished.

"We're going to do everything we can to avoid that Admiral. Pain actually slows down the healing and recovery process and that's something we want to avoid. As I've already explained to Sam, I'm leaving orders for him to be started on a PCA pump which will allow him to manage his own pain."

"PCA pump? What's that?" Al asked.

"PCA stands for Patient Controlled Analgesic. It's a pump that will be preloaded with a pain medicine – morphine. Sam will be able to control when he receives the meds through the use of a hand control. This way he can get the pain relief that he needs when he needs it without having to wait."

"Wait a minute, Doc. That sounds a little risky. If he can just flip a switch and get a shot of morphine whenever he wants couldn't he end up overdosing on it or hooked on it?"

"The pump itself will be programmed to only deliver a certain amount of the drug over a specified time period. No matter how many times Sam hits the button, if he's hit that limit the machine won't deliver another dose until the time has elapsed. As far as addiction, he'll be closely monitored for the duration that he's using the PCA. Generally it's not a long enough period of time for an addiction to develop. We're actually finding that by using the PCA pumps patients are managing their pain better while at the same time actually taking less morphine into their systems which cuts down on the risk of dependence. Trust me, Admiral, it's perfectly safe and quite effective. If there was any risk of an overdose or increased dependency because of it I wouldn't be recommending it."

"Ok," Al said. "I guess that's better than him being in pain. So how long will he need it?"

While Dr. Gleason and Al had been discussing Sam's pain management over him he'd been looking back and forth between the two trying to follow the conversation. He was finding it increasingly more difficult to do as the earlier shot of morphine he'd been given dulled his senses and he found his mind wandering away from the conversation at hand. He finally interrupted the two of them.

"Hey," came his soft voice. "Did anybody call my mother?" he asked in a total change from the subject at hand.

Both Al and Dr. Gleason stopped short at the softly voiced question. Neither had made any attempt to broach the subject of Mrs. Beckett and had been hoping to be able to avoid it a little while longer.

Finally, Al spoke up answering Sam. "Well, uh, I, uh, I talked to her yesterday when you were in surgery so she knows what's going on."

"Oh," Sam said. "I should probably call her and let her know I'm ok, then. She must be worried sick."

Al and Dr. Gleason exchanged a quick look. Al had expected Sam to ask why his mother wasn't at the hospital eventually but he never thought he'd ask to call her. There was no way he could use a snowstorm as an excuse to get out of that. Luckily Dr. Gleason came to the rescue.

"You're mother's in Hawaii, isn't she?"

Sam nodded to indicate the doctor was correct.

"With the time difference it may be 10:00 am here but it's only 4:00 am there. I don't think right now would be a really good time to call your family out in Hawaii. It would probably worry them more to get a call at that time of the morning than they already are."

"Besides, Al chimed in, I talked to Katie and Jim both yesterday after you were out of surgery and let them know how you were doing. They know you're gonna be ok."

"Well," Sam countered, "I should still call Mom and talk to her. She's probably gonna be worried until she actually hears from me. I guess your right, though, it's too early to call her right now. I guess I'll have to wait 'til this afternoon. 'Sides," he continued around a yawn, "I'm not sure how much longer I can stay awake."

"You should rest, then, Sam," Dr. Gleason advised. "Your body's been through a lot of trauma and it's going to need a lot of rest to recover. I'll be in later today to check up on you again and Dr. Childs should be in sometime early this afternoon to check your leg."

"The doc's right, Sam. You should probably get some sleep. You're looking pretty wiped out."

It was as if Al telling Sam to sleep was the permission he needed to do so. Al had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when Sam's eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

As soon as Dr. Gleason was sure that Sam had fallen asleep he gestured for Al to join him outside the room.

As soon as the door to Sam's room closed behind them Al let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "I didn't even think he'd ask to call his mother. You know he's going to remember that when he wakes up and he's going to be a lot harder to put off then."

"I was getting that impression, Admiral. You know Sam a lot better than I do. Right now the meds we have him on are likely to throw his emotions out whack and to mask them somewhat so it makes it a little harder for someone like me to know what a normal reaction from him would be. How would he normally take this kind of news?"

"How would anyone take this kind of news? Sam's a pretty level-headed guy. He'd be upset and worried, sure, but then again, wouldn't anyone? The longer we wait to tell him, though, the worse he's gonna take it. Especially if, God forbid, his mother dies. I'll tell you this, as level-headed as he can be he can also give stubborn lessons to a mule. If you think it's going to be easy to talk him out of calling his mother when he wakes up, well, I think you've been hitting the same drugs he has."

"I agree with you, Admiral. I don't think this is something that can be put off – or even should be put off – much longer. I'll tell you what," Dr. Gleason said looking down at his watch, "that morphine shot is going to keep him out for the next couple of hours. I'll come by around 2:00 and we'll tell him then."

"Sounds good, Doc."

"I have to get on with my rounds. I take it you'll be staying here with Sam?"

"Yeah. The kid's gonna need someone with him and since his family can't be here right now…."

"I understand, Admiral. He's lucky to have such a good friend. I'll see you later this afternoon."

Al walked back into Sam's room and over to the bed and looked down at his sleeping friend. He was happy to see that the lines of pain that had been on Sam's face when he'd first gotten there had finally been erased and that he was sleeping peacefully. If it weren't for the collection of bruises that mottled his face and the presence of the oxygen, Al could almost convince himself that that's all Sam was doing – just sleeping.

He walked over to the window and looked out to the world beyond. The clouds had stopped merely threatening to dump snow on the city and now it was falling at a fairly good clip. At the rate it was falling Al estimated that it wouldn't take very long for the city to be covered in it. He imagined that it was already gumming up traffic. Well, at least he didn't have to be anywhere or travel in the mess.

He thought about what the doctor had said – that Sam was lucky. It seemed they'd been saying that about Sam a lot since the accident. Al found it pretty ironic that that's the description that Sam would get tagged with when he was lying in a hospital bed.

If anyone was lucky to have a good friend, it was Al. The casual observer often wondered how it was that the two men were such close friends. Al often wondered the same thing himself. The two of them had such different backgrounds and came from two very different lives. On the surface it was a wonder that they had anything at all in common.

Their friendship had quickly grown out of a mutual respect for each other as well as the need to protect each other. Sam had helped Al to not only hold on to his position at the Star Bright project but also to overcome his dependence on alcohol.

Although not quite as obvious, Al had taken it upon himself after first meeting Sam Beckett to take the kid under his wing and teach him how to have fun and to come out his shell. He'd determined that the confidence Sam displayed in his professional life would spill over into his personal life as well and the shyness would be left behind. He was still working on it but the Sam Beckett the world saw today was a far cry more confident than the Sam Beckett that Al had first met.

Since the day he'd first met Sam, Al had felt a protective instinct toward the younger man. He saw in Sam a void that had been left with the loss of his older brother and father when he was still young and he strove to fill it and to offer the guidance and protection that both of those figures in Sam's life would have done were they still alive. What he either never realized or admitted to himself was that by filling that void for Sam he was also filling a void in his life to take care of and protect someone.

Al blew out a noisy breath between his teeth and turned away from the window. Frankly, it didn't matter how or why they were friends. All he knew was that right now Sam was going to need a friend more than ever and he was fully prepared to be that friend for him.

He settled once more into the bedside chair and reached over to the small table by the bed for the TV remote that had been left there. He made sure to keep the volume turned low on the TV so as not to disturb Sam even though he was fairly sure that it would probably take a marching band to wake him right now. It would be a few hours yet before Sam would be waking up and that was plenty of time for him to, hopefully, come up with the words to tell Sam about his mother – and explain why he'd lied to him this morning.


	13. Chapter 13

Flames. He could see them in the distance coming toward him. He looked around for a way to escape the encroaching hell but saw no where to go nor did he see anyone else. He was alone on the bleak landscape except for the flames that kept drawing closer and closer until they surrounded him on all sides. There was no place he could go and he cried out for help – for anyone who could help him. The only sound that answered his cries was the crackling of the flames. There was nothing he could do and no one who could help him. He was alone – alone with the flames.

They seemed to take on a life of their own reaching out for him. Wherever they touched him they left behind deep, burning pains – his leg, his side, his chest. They kept reaching for him and he kept begging. Begging for anyone to help him and release him from the torment.

Then he heard something beyond the flames. A voice calling his name. A voice he knew. A voice that was his savior. Al, the voice belonged to Al and he called out to him.

"Al! Al, help me. Don't leave me alone. Help me. It burns."

Al called out to him again and he felt something or someone shaking his shoulders.

"Wake up. Sam, wake up."

He drew in a noisy breath to call out again when his eyes snapped open. He tried to jerk up into a sitting position but was stopped both by the pain the action caused as well as the hands on his shoulders.

"Ahhh," he cried out as the pain hit him full force.

"C'mon, Sam. You gotta calm down and wake up." Al sounded as frantic as Sam had sounded in his dream. He realized now that that's what the flames had been – a dream.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and forced one word out of his mouth, "hurts."

Sam felt Al fumble for something on the bed and then a beep filled the room. It was a different sounding beep than the frantic one he'd been hearing since he'd jerked awake.

He felt Al's hand on his arm now rubbing up and down. "Just hang on, Sam. Give that stuff time to work. It'll start feeling better soon."

He heard the door to the room bang open and the sounds of more people entering the room. He didn't care about that, though. He put all his concentration into the feel of the warm hand on his arm and the gravelly voice imploring him to let the medicine work and to just breathe through the pain. Gradually, it all seemed to work and the pain, though it didn't vanish completely, did lessen greatly.

Finally he was able to open his eyes and look around the room. Al was still leaning over him and the last time Sam could remember seeing such a worried look on his face it had involved one of his ex-wives.

There were two other people in the room as well. The doctor he'd spoken with earlier, Dr. Gleason, as well as a nurse.

"He's ok, now. Al said looking up at the other two. "It was just a dream." He said the last looking Sam squarely in the eyes to make sure he understood.

Sam was feeling embarrassed that a bad dream seemed to have caused so much commotion with the doctor and nurse running in like there was something dreadfully wrong. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Al's right – it was just a dream and I…uh…just moved to fast. Sorry to cause any trouble."

"It's no trouble, Sam. That's what we're all here for." Dr. Gleason said while checking Sam's pulse rate at his wrist. The frantic beeping of the heart monitor had slowed down considerably. "I can take it from here," he said to the nurse signaling her that she could leave.

Once Dr. Gleason was satisfied that both Sam's heartbeat and respirations were dropping back down out of the stratosphere and back to normal levels he pulled back the blanket to check the surgical incision. "Let's just make sure you didn't pull any stitches moving around too fast."

Al took that as his cue to circle around to the other side of the bed and give the doctor as much room as he'd need to check the wound.

"It's looking good," he said taping the dressing back into place and pulling the blanket back up. "How's the pain now?"

"It's not so bad," Sam answered.

"You didn't look like you were in much of state to activate the PCA. I'm going to assume you did that, Admiral?"

Al looked chagrined at the doctor's question. Earlier when the nurse had been in to hook up the pump she'd made sure to tell Al that, although he should point the button out to Sam when he woke up, he shouldn't take it upon himself to administer the pain med, that it should be Sam's decision alone. "I know I'm not supposed to but he was in a lot of pain when he woke up and I didn't think it was worth it to spend the time trying to explain."

"In this instance, Admiral, it's perfectly ok but in the future it needs to be Sam's decision when he needs pain management."

Dr. Gleason turned his attention to Sam and placed the button that would activate the PCA pump into Sam's hand. "This is the PCA we were talking about earlier. When you feel you need something for the pain just push this button and it will automatically be administered to you. Don't worry about overdosing on it, the computer has been set to prevent that."

Sam looked at the button in his hand and, since the earlier pain wasn't completely gone gave it an experimental push. He heard a soft beeping as the pump released the medicine into his system.

"You'll know it's delivering a dose when it beeps."

"How long will I have to use it? Sam asked.

"Ah, I didn't think that you'd really understood everything when we talked about it this morning. You'll most likely be on the PCA for about 3 days then we'll start to switch you over to oral pain relief. Is there anything else we discussed this morning that you're not so clear on?" Dr. Gleason asked.

"No," Sam answered. "I think I'm pretty clear on everything else. I take it I'm going to be here a while."

"I want to keep the chest tube in for a few more days and make sure your lung is healing properly. You're going to need some time, too, before that leg is healed enough to really be up and about. I'd say you're looking at being a guest here for at least two weeks and at least another couple of weeks before you're in any condition to travel."

"Four weeks? You're kidding, right Doc?"

"Sorry, Sam, I'm not. You got banged up pretty badly and those injuries are going to need time to heal. As it is even when you are ok to travel you're still going to need a couple of more months of therapy and healing time."

Sam leaned his head farther back into the pillow and sighed. He knew that what Dr. Gleason was telling him was the truth but it didn't make it any easier to take. At least a month before he could go back to New Mexico and the project and then another couple of months after that before he was at 100. There was no way they'd be able to keep on schedule and if they fell too far behind they could kiss goodbye the funding that he and Al had just gotten. What was it, two days since that meeting? It felt a hell of a lot longer than just two days.

He turned to face Al and said, "You should probably fly back out to New Mexico as soon as you can get a flight out, Al. Try to keep things as on schedule as they can be or else Weiztman's going to crucify us."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that nozzle, Sam. I think I'll stick around here for a while and keep you company."

"I'll be fine by myself, Al. I'm a big boy. Besides, if I'm right, Mom and Katie will be out here the first flight they can get."

At the mention of Sam's mother Al and Dr. Gleason locked eyes and Dr. Gleason finally nodded at Al that he should tell Sam about his mother. Sam didn't miss the silent exchange between the two.

"What? Is something wrong? Are they having a problem getting a flight here? I'll be ok for a day or two by myself, Al. Honest."

"Sam," Al began pulling down the safety rail on the bed and sitting on the mattress next to Sam. He sat gently so as not to jostle him and reawaken any of the pain he'd been experiencing. "We need to talk."

"What's goin' on, Al? You're starting to scare me here." He caught sight of the snow falling outside the window behind Al's head and immediately thought the worst. "Did something happen, Al? Something you're not telling me?"

Al followed Sam's line of sight and caught on to his train of thought. "Something has happened, Sam, but it's not what you're thinking. I did talk to your Mom yesterday and let her know what had happened. Actually I talked to her a couple of times and she and Katie were going to fly out today but…something happened."

"Tell me," was Sam's firm command.

Al forged ahead figuring at this point the best way to break the news to Sam was to just give him all of the facts.

"Jim called last night. While your mom was getting ready to fly out here she started having chest pains. Katie and Jim rushed her to the hospital asap."

Sam swallowed before asking, "She's not…she's not…" he trailed off before completing the question in a voice barely above a whisper, "dead?"

"No, Sam, no. She's still very much alive," Al reassured him hoping that what he was saying was still the truth since he hadn't heard from Katie since that morning's phone call. "She did have a heart attack. They said it's pretty serious. When I talked to Katie earlier this morning she said they were going to operate to put in a pacemaker."

"When?" Sam whispered.

"When are they going to operate?" Al asked to clarify Sam's question.

"No," Sam said, his voice getting harder. "When did this happen. You said Jim called last night."

Al sighed and glanced up at Dr. Gleason who merely shrugged in return. There'd be no aid coming from that quarter.

"Yeah, Sam. Jim called last night. That's when it happened."

"You knew about this last night? Last night, and you're just getting around to telling me now. Why? Why were you holding that from me? She's my mother. You should have told me right away. Why, Al? Why didn't you tell me?"

Sam's voice had gotten progressively louder as his fear and frustration took over. The beeping of the heart monitor had once again resumed a frantic pace and Sam's breathing had become short, shallow gasps.

"Sam, c'mon," Al implored. "You gotta calm down. This isn't good for you."

Dr. Gleason had again lifted Sam's wrist to check his pulse but Sam jerked his arm away from Dr. Gleason's grasp.

"No," Sam gasped. "Don't tell me to calm down. You had no right. She's my mother."

Dr. Gleason finally interrupted as he watched the numbers climb on the cardiac monitor while the numbers displaying Sam's oxygen saturation levels started to drop. "Sam, I need you to calm down. It wasn't the Admiral's choice to keep anything from you. That was my decision."

"Your decision?" Sam gasped. "What right …do you…have…to be making…that decision?"

"I'm your physician, Sam. It was my decision that it was in your best interest to withhold the news from you until your condition was more stable. The reaction you're having right now is exactly why I wanted to hold off on telling you the news," Dr. Gleason explained while reaching for the call button to get a nurse. "Right now you need to try to calm your breathing. I'm going to have the nurse give you a shot of valium to help you calm down."

"No…don't want…to be…sedated," Sam gasped out.

Al was growing more and more concerned at his friend's difficulty in breathing. He understood now why Dr. Gleason had wanted to hold off on telling Sam about his mother but, in Al's estimation, it would have only been worse if they'd waited longer.

"C'mon, Sam. Listen to Dr. Gleason. If it's gonna help you calm down and breathe let him give it to you."

"No. Don'…wanna…sleep."

While Al tried to talk Sam into letting the doctor treat him the nurse had come into the room and Dr. Gleason had quietly asked her to prepare an injection of Valium and to bring it back into the room.

"Sam," Dr. Gleason said once the nurse had left, "I'm not going to give you enough to sedate you. You'll still be very much awake. We just need to get you calmed down. You respiration and your pulse is off the board right now and we've got to get them back down."

"Can't….breathe," Sam gasped, finally acknowledging the difficulty he was having.

"I know that, Sam, and I want to help you. Will you let me?"

Sam couldn't find the breath to answer the doctor but nodded to indicate he wouldn't fight him anymore.

"Good. The first thing you need to do is to try to slow down your breathing. You're hyperventilating right now and we've got to control that. Can you try to slow down your breathing?"

"Trying," was the weak response.

"Just keep trying, Sam. Just try to relax as much as you can," Dr. Gleason said again reaching for Sam's wrist to check his pulse. The nurse walked back in then and injected the contents of the syringe she'd brought with her into the IV line running into Sam's arm.

"Let's just give that a chance to start to work now, Sam. You're doing good. Just concentrate on breathing as slowly and normally as you can."

Over the next several minutes the painful, ragged breaths Sam had been drawing in finally evened back out and the beeping of the heart monitor slowed to its more natural rhythm.

"How are you feeling now, Sam?" Dr. Gleason asked once Sam's breathing had finally slowed down.

"Better," was the weak response. "My chest is really sore, though."

"I imagine it probably is. You gave your ribs quite a workout and I don't think they were too happy with that. If you need to use the PCA it's ok. Go ahead and do it."

Sam's hand fumbled across the blanket for the button he'd dropped earlier. Once he'd found it he depressed it and the beeping of the pump was heard signaling the release of the pain meds.

While waiting to be sure that the pain meds were working Dr. Gleason again checked Sam's pulse and then reached for the blood pressure cuff behind the bed and completed a full check of his vital signs. He was satisfied when he saw that they'd all come back down to normal ranges.

Although the amount of valium he had been given wasn't enough to sedate Sam, combined with the morphine in the pump it was enough to make him feel less in touch with the world around him. It wasn't enough, though, to mask the pain he was feeling at the news that his mother's life was jeopardy.

He was angry with himself that his response to the news had been the exact reason why Dr. Gleason had prohibited Al from telling him any sooner. He worried that it would be used as a reason not to keep him updated on his mother's condition in the future and that was something he didn't want to allow. He knew there was one way to stop that from happening.

"Promise me," he said to Al.

"Promise you what, Sam"

"Promise me you'll tell me what's happening with Mom no matter what. No more keeping secrets from me, Al. I need to know." Sam put all the energy his tried and drained body had into making his voice forceful as he extracted the promise from Al.

"You have my word, Sam. I won't hold anything from you again. You need to make me a promise, too, though."

"What?" Sam asked warily.

"You need to do whatever the doc here says so that you can get well. No more fighting him or refusing your meds. How do you think it would make your mother feel if she knew you were being difficult and risking your own health?"

Al mentioning Thelma was the only push Sam needed. "I promise, Al. I won't fight the doctor anymore."

"Sam," Dr. Gleason said drawing Sam's attention to him. "Things are looking pretty good here so I'm going to leave now. I want you to try to stay as relaxed as you can. I know that sounds a lot easier than it actually is but it's important. If you need me for anything you can have one of the nurses page me."

"Thanks, Dr. Gleason. I'm sorry to be such trouble."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Just try to get some rest. I'll be by to check on you before my shift is over."

"He's a good, guy," Al said after Dr. Gleason had walked out of the room.

"He is," Sam agreed. "He's a good doctor."

The two men sat in silence for moment before Al finally tried to stand up. Sam, who'd been sitting with his eyes closed, opened them as soon as he felt the movement of Al starting to rise. With a speed Al wouldn't have guessed from him in his current condition he shot out his hand and grabbed Al's wrist in a tight grip. "Don't go?" he asked.

Al patted the hand around his wrist and reassured Sam. "I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm just gonna sit in the chair instead. Ok?"

Sam glanced quickly at the chair Al had indicated before nodding. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Al," Sam said feeling embarrassed.

"No need to apologize," Al reassured him.

Even though he'd agreed to let Al move, Sam still didn't release his hold on Al's wrist. Al waited a few seconds to give him a chance before bringing his attention to it.

"You know, I could move a little bit better if you let me go," Al said with a smile.

Sam quickly glanced down to where his hand still grasped Al's wrist before letting go quickly as if he had grabbed on to something hot.

"I'm sorry. I don't….I just….I," he trailed off unsure of what he wanted to say.

"It's ok," Al said sitting down in the chair. "You've had a lot thrown at you in last 24 hours. You have nothing to keep apologizing for so you better stop with that."

Sam nodded his head to acknowledge what Al had said but didn't lift his head to meet his eyes. He was staring down at the loose thread on the blanket and pulling at it again.


	14. Chapter 14

Before either man could say anything else the door opened to admit a petite dark-haired woman. She quickly approached the bed and put her hand out to Sam introducing herself to him. "Hello, Mr. Beckett. I'm Dr. Susannah Childs. I took care of your leg yesterday. I came by to check on you earlier but you were sleeping. I spoke to Dr. Gleason on my way in and he explained that you'd received some disturbing news so I'll try to be as quick as I can. I'm sure you'd like some time to yourself right now. Admiral," she said looking up catching Al's attention on the other side of the bed, "it's good to see you again."

Sam wasn't sure if it was the meds he'd been given or an effect of the concussion he'd suffered earlier by he felt as if a small hurricane had blown in with Dr. Childs. He grasped her extended hand and was surprised that for someone so small she certainly had a powerful grip.

"Hi," he said in return. "You can call me Sam. I take it you and Al met earlier."

"The Admiral was here when I came by earlier. You must have gotten a fairly heft dose of morphine just before I got here. You slept through my exam. I did want to come back though and talk to you and see if you had any questions."

Each sentence that Dr. Childs said was delivered in a clipped and precise manner without much time taken for pleasantries. Sam quickly deduced that Dr. Childs was all business.

"Dr. Gleason mentioned something earlier about a rod or something. I wasn't really following everything he said completely."

"I had to insert a rigid rod into the center of the femur to stabilize it. It was a good clean break, though, so there shouldn't be any problems with the bone healing. The rod will also help to cut down on the time it's going to take to heal and for you to get back on you're feet."

"How long will it be before I can get up?"

"Well, Sam, that's the good thing about the rigid rod. If we just casted the leg and let the bone knit on it's own it would be a good number of weeks before your leg would be weight bearing at all. With the rod we could get you up with crutches or a walker within a couple of days. That's going to all depend, though, on when Dr. Gleason clears you to get up and also when you lose some of the tubes you're hooked up to."

Sam smiled faintly at Dr. Childs reference to the many tubes entering his body. Since he'd woken up that morning the only one he'd been fortunate enough to lose was the blood transfusion in his right arm. He was very uncomfortably aware of at least one other tube he'd like removed as soon as possible.

"Given that, Dr. Childs continued, I'm hopeful that we will start getting you up within a week's time. Like I said, I did examine you while you were sleeping so I don't see any need to put you through that again right now. Do you have any other questions I can answer for you right now?"

"No," Sam answered. I can't think of anything right now. Thank you."

"I'll let you get some rest then. If you do have any questions just let one of the nurses know and they can get in touch with me. Otherwise, I'll be in tomorrow morning to check to see how you're doing. Admiral," she said turning her attention to Al, "have a good day."

Before either Sam or Al could get a chance to say anything Dr. Childs had disappeared out the door. Both of them sat in silence looking at the door for a couple of seconds before Sam finally spoke. "Did I just miss something here? I didn't think I was that medicated right now but that felt like a whirlwind just came through."

"She doesn't seem to be oozing bedside manner but everyone I've talked to here has assured me she's one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the area." Al assured Sam.

Before Sam had a chance to respond to Al they were interrupted when the door opened yet again. Both men turned to see who the newest arrival was with Al commenting, "Geez, I think this room gets more business than Grand Central Station."

The newest visitor to Sam's room was yet another nurse. She was medium height and had an open and honest face that could best be described as cute. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid. She had an air of cheerfulness about her that didn't seem forced at all but, rather, was in her nature.

"Hi, Sam," she said approaching the bed and picking up the chart hanging at the foot of it and scanning through it. Her accent gave way to the fact that she called the deep South home. "My name's Lydia and I'm going to be your afternoon nurse. Yesterday was my day off so I wasn't around when they brought you up. I'm going to assume someone's explained how we work the nursing schedule here."

"Well, not really," Sam explained. "It's been kind of an…eventful day so far and I guess no one got around to it.

"Diane did mention at shift change that you've had kind of an interesting day. Anyway, let me get y'all up to speed then. Right now you're in a step-down unit. I imagine once you get rid of this," she said gesturing to the chest tube, "they'll move you to a regular unit. We work on three nursing shifts here. Each patient has one primary nurse assigned to him during each shift. We figure it's just a whole lot easier to give you the care you need if there's one primary person who knows everything that's going on. I'm here in the afternoons – from 2:00 on every day but Wednesdays and Sundays."

Lydia's explanation of the how the nursing shifts worked made sense finally to Sam. He'd been wondering why it was he'd only seen the one nurse, Diane. Now he understood that she must be assigned to him in the mornings. He couldn't even remember who might have been in his room last night.

"I'm just going to check your vitals, here," she said while reaching for the blood pressure cuff in the basket behind the bed, "and get a good picture of where you stand right now." She checked his blood pressure, respirations, and pulse in silence recording the data on the chart that had been hanging at the foot of his bed.

"What's that for?" Al asked when she picked up the device she'd placed on the table near the bed and proceeded to snap a protective cover over the small, conical end.

"This," she said showing it to Al, "is an aural thermometer. I just need to put this part in your ear," she continued directing her attention to Sam. "It will take your temperature quicker than an oral thermometer will."

She gently placed the conical end of the thermometer in Sam's ear and depressed the button on it that would activate it. In a much shorter time than it would have taken an oral version, the thermometer beeped to indicate that it had recorded Sam's temperature.

When the thermometer beeped, Lydia took it out of Sam's ear and put the protective covering in the trash. She checked the readout on the box that the thermometer was attached to and recorded the information there onto his chart. Both the readout and the chart were angled so that Sam couldn't see either but he couldn't help but notice the concerned expression on Lydia's face when she saw the readout.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked her.

"You're temp's a bit elevated from the last time it was checked," she replied returning his chart to the foot of the bed. "It's nothing to really be alarmed about and is expected after major surgery. Dr. Gleason left a standing order for Tylenol in the event you did start to carry a temperature so I'm just going to go out and get that for you."

Sam knew that it was perfectly normal for a post-operative patient to frequently run a slightly elevated temperature but it didn't mean that he felt any more comforted with that knowledge when he was the patient in question. "How high is it?" he asked her.

"It's just barely hitting 100 right now. Let's get the Tylenol into you and that should start to bring it down pretty quick."

"And if it doesn't," Al asked.

"Well, Mr….." she started then stopped at a loss as to what Al's name was.

"Calavicci. I'm Admiral Al Calavicci but just Al's fine," he clarified for her.

"Well, Al, let's not go borrowing trouble before we have to." Seeing the stubborn look on both Al's as well Sam's face she continued, "if his temperature doesn't start to go down after the Tylenol or if it continues to rise we'll put a call in to Dr. Gleason and either he, or the on-call doctor will be down to check on Sam and make any adjustments or additions to his treatment as necessary. The chances of that happening, though, are pretty slim so, like I said, let's not go borrowing trouble. I'm going to go out and get you those Tylenol," she said diverting her attention back to Sam, "and then we'll see how it goes."

Sam nodded his agreement and watched her walk out of the room before reaching up and rubbing his temples. His head was starting to pound and the PCA didn't seem to be doing much for it. He hoped that maybe taking the Tylenol would at least help make a dent in it.

"Headache?" Al asked seeing him rub his head.

"Yeah," Sam said putting his hands down. "Did Katie say when Mom's surgery was?"

"No, Sam. When she talked to me this morning she didn't know when it was going to be scheduled for. She said she'd call as soon as she knew anything new."

Before either Al or Sam could continue with the conversation Lydia came back in with the Tylenol for Sam. She handed him the small medicine cup that the two tablets were in and poured a glass of water for him. Once he'd put the two tablets in his mouth she took the medicine cup and handed him the glass of water.

"There," she said taking the glass back from him. "Why don't you try to rest now and let those work. I'm going to come back in an hour and check to see if your temperature's gone down any but if you need anything in the meantime you just buzz, ok?"

"Thank you," Sam replied. He waited until Lydia had left the room before turning his attention back to Al. "Do you think you could try calling Katie and seeing what's going on. It doesn't look like there's a phone in this room or I'd do it."

Al stood up from the chair and answered Sam. "Sure, Kid, on one condition. You do what Lydia said and you get some rest."

"I'll rest when I know what's going on with Mom," Sam told him with a determined glint in his eye.

"Anyone ever tell you how stubborn you are? Nah, don't bother answering that."

Al started to walk out of the room until Sam's voice stopped him just before he walked out the door.

"Al," Sam said.

"Yeah," Al replied turning from the door.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Kid." Al said and walked out the door to make the phone call.

Sam stared after Al for a few seconds before resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes. He'd intended to only rest his eyes until Al got back from making the phone call but because of the combination of the medications he'd received, the low-grade fever he was now running, and the emotional roller coaster he'd been on he quickly succumbed to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Al wasn't surprised to find Sam sleeping when he returned to his room 15 minutes later. He knew Sam would probably be upset with him for not waking him up to tell him what Katie had told him over the phones but, since she really didn't have anything new to add, he didn't think it would be a really big deal.

Al took the opportunity while Sam was sleeping to run down to the cafeteria and get something to eat since he hadn't had a chance to have any lunch yet.

When he got back to Sam's room he was still sleeping and Lydia was in the room checking his temperature again. Al stood quietly behind her watching and was pleased to see that she took great effort to check Sam as quietly and gently as possible without disturbing his sleep. When she placed the thermometer in his ear, Sam barely even twitched.

"How's he doing?" he asked when the thermometer emitted its soft beep.

If she hadn't been aware that Al had been standing behind her, Lydia gave no indication. "His temperature's going in the right direction. It's down to 99.4." She finished hanging the chart back up on the foot of the bed before turning to face Al. "How's his Mama doing?"

"I talked to his sister about an hour ago. There's been no change and they were just getting ready to take her into surgery then so I guess we won't know anything else new for a while yet," Al answered her circling around the bed and resuming his seat near the window.

"He's not having a very good time of it these past couple of days, is he?" Lydia commented.

"You can say that again," Al replied with a rueful grin.

"Well, at least he's got a good friend here with him so he's not alone for all this. That'll help him out a lot."

Al looked thoughtfully at Sam before answering Lydia. "The Kid's been there for me when I've needed a friend in the past. This is the least I can do for him. I just hope I don't have to give him any more bad news."

"I'll be keeping his Mama in my prayers. If she's anything at all like her son I'm betting she's a real fighter."

"Thelma Beckett has to be one of the strongest women I've ever met. Sam will appreciate that you're keeping a good thought for his Mom, "Al told her.

"If he needs anything, make sure he lets us know," Lydia said before readying to leave the room.

"I will," Al assured her, "and thanks."

After Lydia had left the room Al sat watching Sam sleep for another few minutes. When he was sure it didn't seem likely that Sam would be waking up anytime soon he unfolded the copy of the _Washington Post_ that he'd picked up earlier and began to read.

About an hour later Al was just folding the newspaper back up when he heard Sam start to stir in the bed. He looked over just in time to see Sam blink his eyes open and look around the room groggily. Al waited a couple of beats before saying anything. He knew from experience that on a good day Sam needed a little time to acclimate to the waking world so he'd no doubt need a little extra time considering his condition.

Once Al was sure that Sam seemed capable of coherent thought processes he said, "Hey, Sleepyhead. 'Bout time you decided to join the waking world."

"I don't know what it is but it seems like all I've done is sleep and I'm still tired," Sam said while stretching gingerly. "How long was I asleep."

"A couple of hours. You in much pain?" Al asked noticing the careful way Sam was moving.

Sam paused for a moment seemingly assessing how he felt before he answered. "Not too much right now. I'm just getting stiff from lying here so long. You know me, Al, I'm not used to being in one place for so long."

"Well, you better get used to it at least for a little while."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Did you talk to Katie," Sam asked changing the subject.

"I did and there was nothing new with your mother. They were just taking her up to surgery when I talked to Katie so it's going to be another little while yet. Katie promised that either she or Jim would call as soon as they'd talked to the doctor. I know it's not one of your specialties, Sam, but right now you're just going to have to be patient."

"Hmm. Seems I've heard that before. Do you think there's anyway we can get a phone in here? I really would like to call Katie and talk to her myself."

"I don't see why not," Al replied. "The next time Lydia or one of the other nurses comes in why don't you ask about it? Hopefully," he continued with a grin, "she'll be in to see you soon. You've got to admit, Sam, there are some advantages to being in that bed."

When the only response he got from Sam was a quizzical look Al further explained, "The nurses, Sam. Lots of pretty nurses and they're all at your beck and call."

"Al!" Sam chastised. "Is that all you can think about? Besides, I thought you and Tina were the newest item or something."

Al continued to smile mischievously as he responded to Sam. "I don't see Tina here, do you? There's nothing wrong with a little harmless fun, now is there?"

In contrast to Al mischievousness Sam grumpily answered, "I know what you think is fun Al and I'd rather you don't have that kind of fun with the person who's going to be sticking me with a needle."

"Geez, Sam, you really know how to take all the fun out of everything, don't you?"

"Well I'm so sorry Al," Sam said his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I don't seem to be having too much fun myself right now and you know what they say, 'Misery loves company'."

"Yeah, and misery has a new name – Sam Beckett."

"Ha, ha funny Al. Ahhhh," he cried out as his face screwed up in pain.

"What, what's wrong?" Al asked his mood quickly turning to one of concern. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam didn't answer Al right away instead he groped blindly along the side of the bed until his hand found the button for the PCA pump which he quickly depressed. He sat with his eyes closed tightly and his face a mask of pain.

Al was just getting ready to call in the cavalry when Sam let out the breath he'd been holding and opened his eyes and finally answer Al. "I'm ok, Al. I'm ok. It just felt like someone was trying to rip my leg off for a second. It's ok now."

Al watched as the tenseness seemed to drain from Sam's body and the lines of pain smoothed out as the morphine did its work. "You sure you're ok, you don't need me to get anybody."

"No. Trust me, it's ok now."

Sure that Sam really was ok; Al took the opportunity to tease Sam just a little bit more. "You know Sam, maybe we should call Lydia. I'm sure there's something she could do to make you more comfortable…or me. She can make me more comfortable any day."

"Al!" Sam tried to keep the firmness in his voice but found he couldn't as he began to chuckle slightly. "You're incorrigible, you know? You really are. Ow. Remind me not to laugh would ya?" he finished wrapping his arms around his chest to support his ribs.

"Hmph, serves you right," Al said sure that Sam wasn't in any serious pain.

"Well, now, look who's awake," Lydia said walking into the room. "How are you feeling, Sam? Looks like you might be in a bit of pain there."

"I'm ok," Sam said. "Right now it only hurts when I laugh."

"Well, you know, there's a secret to get around that," Lydia told him.

"Let me guess, don't laugh," Al supplied.

"Well darn it all, you just went and stole my joke."

"Sorry," he apologized though he didn't look a bit contrite. "You just let me know if there's anything I can do to make up for it and I'll do it."

"I'll just bet you would, too. So, how do you put up with this guy?" she asked Sam.

"Well, it isn't easy but this helps," Sam said holding up the button to the PCA.

While Lydia laughed at Sam's joke Al put a hurt expression on his face. "That's real cute, Sam. I'll try to forget about it the next time you're lying in the middle of the street bleeding."

Sam tried to look repentant but just couldn't pull it off. The morphine had left him feeling good and a little disconnected from the world at large and the best he could manage was a look that closely resembled a kicked puppy which only served to rekindle Lydia's laughter and caused even Al to start chuckling. Sam wasn't far behind the two of them although his laughter was punctuated by small exclamations of pain.

"Well now, I hate to break up the fun we're all having here but I have work to do," Lydia said sobering up. "Let's just start with checking you temp again and make sure it's still heading in the right direction," she said while placing the thermometer in Sam's ear.

All three were silent until the thermometer's soft beep. "Great," Lydia said, "it's staying down now."

"What is it," Sam asked.

"It's down to 99.3 so it's definitely gone in the right direction. Ok, now I just have to change the dressing on the surgical sites and we'll be all set for now," she explained while opening the cabinets along the wall opposite Sam's bed and pulling out the necessary supplies. "Al," she continued walking back over to Sam's bed and depositing the items she'd retrieved from the cabinets on the over-bed table which she slid out of her way, "would you mind stepping outside for just a couple of minutes until I finish up here."

"Oh sure," Al answered. "I'm just gonna run down to the cafeteria and get some coffee or something. I'll be back, Sam."

"We should be just about done by the time you get back," Lydia told him.


	16. Chapter 16

After leaving Sam's room Al headed in the direction of the elevator but when it came it was the lobby floor he selected instead of the basement where the cafeteria was. He'd gone longer than he really wanted to without a cigar and now seemed like as good a time as any to indulge in one.

Stepping out the doors of the hospital he was glad to see that at the moment he was the only one who'd decided to brave the elements to indulge a habit. At the moment, being polite to anyone was something that he felt he didn't have the energy for.

He lit the cigar and stood just watching the snow fall around him. Since he'd woken up Sam had seemed much calmer than he had when Al had originally told him about his mother. Al had the feeling, though, that what he was seeing was just the calm before the storm. He had a nagging feeling that things just weren't ready to take an upswing yet and that he should be mentally prepared for just about anything.

He stood outside enjoying his cigar for about 15 minutes when the cold finally drove him back inside. He made a quick stop in the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee and then headed back up to Sam's room.

When he got off the elevator on 5th floor he saw Lydia behind the desk at the nurse's station and detoured over to talk with her before going back in to see Sam.

"Hey, Lydia"

"Oh, hi, Al," she said looking up from the paperwork she'd been filling out. "Anything I can do for you?"

"No," Al replied. "I just wanted to make sure things were going ok with Sam."

"Well, I'd say he's doing about a good as can be expected," she said closing the folder she'd been writing in and giving her complete attention to Al. "It's only been a little over 24 hours since his accident and considering the news he got earlier today I'm actually surprised he's doing as well as he is. By the way, he asked if we could get a phone in his room. He seemed pretty eager to get in touch with his sister. Someone should be coming up pretty soon to get that all set up for him."

"Hmmm…I'm honestly not so sure if that's a good thing or not. Considering the time difference between here and Hawaii he's more likely to talk to his sister when visiting hours are over. That might not be the best thing for him to be doing alone."

"Well, that shouldn't bee too much of a worry. Phones in patient rooms are turned off after a certain time to make sure everyone's getting the rest they need. Oh, there is one more piece of pretty good new. Dr. Gleason's left orders to start Sam on a liquid diet tonight so that's definitely a step in the right direction. Of course, he's gonna have trust what the kitchen sends up for him tonight so I can't guarantee just how good this news is," she finished with a smile.

Al grimaced at the thought of hospital food and, even worse, a liquid diet. That could only mean one thing – Jello. Most probably, it would be green Jello since it seemed every hospital kept excess quantities of it on hand.

"Thanks for keeping me updated, Lydia," Al told her. "I better get back in there and keep him out of trouble."

"No problem, Al and personally, I think **he's** the one who keeps **you** outta trouble."

Lydia's laugh followed Al back into Sam's room.

Al pushed open the door to Sam's room and walked in. Sam didn't seem to be aware that Al had come back and Al took the opportunity to stand in the doorway and just look at him. The angle of the bed had been lowered and Sam had his head turned toward the window and away from the door Al stood in. He'd brought his right arm up across his eyes and Al guessed that he had a headache again and that the light in the room was bothering him so he reached over to the light switch and turned it off so that the only light on in the room was the small one behind the bed.

Al walked up to the bed as quietly as he could. Sam's arm over his face and the angle he had his head turned to both made it hard for Al to tell if he was awake or asleep and he didn't want to risk waking him if he had fallen asleep. When he stopped at the side of the bed, Sam seemed to sense his presence there and put his arm down and turned to face Al.

"Hey, the light's off," Sam said to Al by way of greeting.

"Yeah, I flipped it off. Looks like you have a headache and it was bothering you. Am I right?"

Sam didn't answer Al right away and when he did it was with just a small nod.

"Did you tell Lydia when she was in here?" Al inquired.

"No, there's no point in complaining about it, Al"

"No point? Maybe she could have gotten you something for it? Maybe it's a good idea to let the nurses and doctors know how you're feeling, Sam? I don't know, seems to me this isn't something you'd want to be keeping a secret about?" The more questions Al asked the louder his voice seemed to be getting as all of frustration and concern from the past two days came pouring out.

"Al. Al, would you lower your voice. Al? You're not helping any here." Sam's last statement and the fact that he'd once again reached up to rub his temples finally got through to Al who lowered his voice.

"Sorry, Sam. I just don't know why you didn't tell Lydia when she was in here."

"I've got a concussion, I've got I don't know how many stitches in my head,"

"Ten," Al supplied. "You've got ten stitches"

"Ok, ten stitches and I've been pumped with morphine for at least 24 hours now. If I didn't have a headache I'd be surprised. Trust me, it's not something to get worried about. I'm a doctor, remember."

"Right now, Kid, it's my job to worry. What does the morphine have to do with it anyway? I'd think that would help a headache." Al had once again resumed his seat in the chair near Sam's bed.

"Headaches can be a side effect of morphine. Al, trust me on this one," Sam said seeing the worry still etched on Al's face. "This isn't something to worry about. I'm not going to suddenly have convulsions or a stroke or something. It's just a simple headache."

"Fine, Sam, but if it gets worse you're going to tell someone, right?"

"Scouts honor. If it gets worse I'll let someone know. Coffee any good here," Sam asked to change the subject.

Sam's question served as a reminder to Al that he was still holding the cup of coffee. Since coming into the room he'd forgotten he was holding it. He took a sip from the cup before answering Sam's question. "It's not too bad considering it came from a hospital cafeteria." He took another sip and continued, "I've definitely had worse. Speaking of the hospital cafeteria, Lydia tells me you get to sample the cuisine here tonight."

"Somehow, I wouldn't put the words "hospital food", "liquid diet", and "cuisine" all in the same sentence. At least it's better than nothing, I guess."

"Well, look at it this way, it's a step in the right direction. I noticed you finally got rid of another set of plumbing there, huh?"

Sam's face turned quizzical for a moment as he puzzled out just what it was Al was referring to before turning a slight pink shade signaling to Al that he had figured it out. "Yeah, Lydia took it out while you were gone. Can't say that's something I'm going to miss. Can't say I exactly enjoyed the whole process either."

Al laughed at the discomfort Sam seemed to be in. "Geez, Sam, I don't know a pretty girl and…"

"Al!" Sam chastised. "It's not funny, ok. It's embarrassing."

"Here I thought something like that wouldn't bother a doctor but look at how red your face is getting," Al laughed.

"Yeah, well, it's a lot different when you're on this end of things. I'd like to see you how you'd like it."

"Yeah, well," Al said sobering up, "been there and done that so I'll skip the repeat. It's one less thing tying you down, though, so that means they should be getting you out of bed sooner than later."

Before Sam had the opportunity to respond to Al the door to the room opened to admit a hospital worker who was carrying a phone. He didn't say anything to either Al or Sam, just dropped the phone down on the over-bed tray and plugged it into the wall. Once it had been plugged in he gruffly informed Sam that the switchboard would have the phone turned on and functional within 15 minutes and that he'd need to dial 9 to get an outside line. Without another word he left the room.

"Well, wasn't he just the friendly sort," Al observed once the worker had left the room.

Sam shrugged, seemingly un-phased by the worker's attitude, and picked up the handset on the phone to see if there was a dial tone yet, replacing it softly in the cradle when he heard only silence.

"Give it some time, Kid. He said it was going to take a little while for it to be turned on at the switchboard."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just…"

"I know," Al cut him off, standing up and moving the phone from the over-bed tray to the small cabinet by the bed. "You're just anxious to hear about your Mom. Katie said she'd call as soon as she had anything new to tell us. Since she hasn't, that probably means there's nothing new. You know, sometimes no news is good news."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "you're probably right."

"How about we watch some TV until your dinner gets here? That might take your mind off your Mom for a little while," Al suggested resuming his seat again.

"Sure," Sam shrugged, "that sounds like a good idea."


	17. Chapter 17

The two sat in silence for a little over an hour until Sam's dinner tray was brought in. Even though Sam seemed to be intently watching the TV Al had a feeling that he wasn't really paying attention to what was going on on it and was thinking about his mother instead.

Al was just helping Sam to take the cover off the tray when Lydia poked her head in to see how her patient was doing. "Got your dinner, I see and it looks like you've got all the help you're going to need with it," she said indicating Al. "If you want, Al, I can call down and have a guest tray sent up for you"

"Uh, no, that's fine Lydia," he quickly declined not anxious for another meal of hospital cafeteria food. "I grabbed something to eat not that long ago so I'll be good 'til I get back to the hotel."

"Well, ok. You just give a ring if you need anything, Sam" she said before leaving the room.

"Well, this doesn't look too bad, Sam," Al said uncovering the first bowl and making sure it was in Sam's reach.

"You are kidding me, aren't you?" Sam said poking at the broth with the spoon before finally putting a spoonful of it in his mouth. He grimaced at the flavor of it and forced himself to swallow it. "I really don't think broth should be served lukewarm."

"You should try to eat it anyway. You're gonna need the nourishment." Al finished uncovering the rest of the bowls and cups on the tray. He certainly didn't envy Sam at all. In addition to the lukewarm broth there was also a bowl of the obligatory jello – yellow instead of the expected green - as well as a cup of juice and mug of hot water for tea which he dropped the provided teabag into.

Sam managed to get a few more mouthfuls of the broth into him before dropping the spoon into the bowl and pushing it away from him. Al wasn't deterred and pushed the bowl of jello at him to replace the broth. "Here, try this. Maybe it'll be better."

Sam gave him a look that said he doubted that before he gamely tried to eat the jello. "I think it's warmer than the broth was," he commented. He only managed a couple of mouthfuls of jello before pushing it to the side as well. "I can't eat it, Al," he said.

"Why don't you at least try drinking something," Al suggested.

Sam reached out a trembling hand to pick up the cup tea and slowly sipped at it.

"You're startin' to look a little green around the gills there, Sam. You want me to call someone?" Al asked worriedly.

"No, Al. I'll be ok. I just don't think I'm really up to eating anything right now," Sam said with a sigh. He put the cup back down on the tray and leaned back into the pillows.

"You're not gonna get the pukies are you?"

Sam smiled slightly at Al's description before answering him. "I don't think so but would you mind moving this," he waved his hand to indicate the tray of food, "somewhere else before I change my mind."

"Sure, Sam," Al said moving the table from over the bed. As soon as it was out of the way Sam reached for the control that would lower the bed into more of a reclining position and settled himself into a more comfortable position.

"I think I'm just gonna rest for a little while, ok?"

"Sure. You probably need it," Al said as he pulled the blanket more snugly around Sam. "I'm just gonna sit here and watch the TV again unless that's gonna bother you."

"Ok," Sam mumbled already starting to doze off.

Al stood next to the bed looking down at him for another minute. In Al's opinion Sam's color didn't look very good but if he was able to settle into a restful sleep he figured he must not be feeling too badly.

Al was just getting ready to sit back down when Lydia came in the room to check to see how much Sam had eaten.

"Doesn't look like he got too much of this into him," she observed.

"No," Al agreed. "It didn't seem to sit too well with him."

"Well, it's going to take a little while for him to get back up to speed. Besides, just between you and me, this all wouldn't sit too well with me either. I'll take this out of here" she said picking up the try. "Let's let him get some rest right now and maybe he'll be up to trying something else a little later."

Once Lydia had left the room Al switched on the TV with the volume low and sat down to watch the evening news.


	18. Chapter 18

Sam knew that he wasn't awake but he wasn't really asleep either. He was in that twilight state that falls between the two. He'd been vaguely aware of Lydia coming into the room earlier and now he was just barely aware of what sounded like the news playing on the TV. It seemed like just too much work, though, to come fully awake so he let himself continue on in the twilight drowse content that for now the pains in his body seemed to have receded though the nausea from earlier seemed to be sticking around. At least the persistent headache seemed to have abated somewhat.

He was just about to let himself drift off into a deeper sleep when he was suddenly jerked awake by the sound of a discordant jangling that his half-asleep mind couldn't immediately place. He was vaguely aware of Al running around his bed and grabbing something off of the table beside it. Al's gruff "Hello" was the clue he needed to remind him about the phone that had been put in the room earlier. It was the ringing of it that had woken him up.

Even knowing it was the phone that had woken him, it still took Sam another few seconds to come fully awake enough to process Al's side of the conversation.

"No, he was sleeping but he's awake now," he heard Al say. "Hang on let me see if he's awake enough to make any sense."

As soon as Al had put the handset down and turned to him he asked who it was on the other end of the phone. "Who is it Al? Is that Katie? Let me talk to her."

"Hang on a second, Sam. It is Katie. She wants to know if you feel up to talking to her."

Sam put out his hand for the phone and anxiously answered Al, "Of course I want to talk to her. Give me the phone."

"Just hang on a second so I can move it to where you can reach it."

Al pushed the over bed tray back over the bed and set the phone down on it and quickly picked the receiver back up before Sam could. "Katie, here he is," he said before handing the phone over to Sam. "Do you want me to wait outside?" he asked Sam.

Sam shook his head "no" in answer to Al's question before turning his attention to the phone. "Katie, how's Mom doing? How'd the surgery go? What's the doctor saying?"

"Whoa, Sam slow down so I can answer your questions."

"Yeah, sorry," he agreed. "I just feel so…so…out of the loop I guess."

"I know you do, Sam, but we've been keeping Al updated on everything."

"He's told me," Sam replied sighing and rubbing his face with his free hand. "I just don't like being stuck here when Mom's in Hawaii."

Sam heard his sister sigh on the other end of the phone before she responded to him. "Mom was feeling the same way yesterday, Sam. Unfortunately there's nothing any of us can really do about it right now so I guess we're going to just have to do the best we can."

"I know. You haven't told me how Mom is yet," Sam reminder her.

"Jim and I just finished talking with her doctor, Dr. Michaelson, a few minutes ago. He said she came through the surgery great and he doesn't see any reason why she shouldn't make a complete recovery. He said it's just going to be a matter of time."

"That's… that's good to know," Sam told her reaching up to wipe away the tears gathering in his eyes. "Have you seen her yet?"

"Not yet. She's still in recovery. Dr. Michaelson said it will be another couple of hours before we can see her."

"When you see her tell her I love her and I wish I could be there with her, ok?" Sam reached up again to wipe away the tears gathering in his eyes. It seemed he'd spent the whole day with his emotions on some kind of roller coaster ride and he didn't seem to have much control over them. He could hear Katie talking on the other end of the phone that he held in a white-knuckled grip but wasn't able to pay attention to what she was saying as his emotions took control over him.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder offering comfort before Al took the phone from his grasp. He could hear Katie calling out his name but he couldn't seem to form words to talk at the moment.

"Katie," he heard Al saying into the phone. "No, he's ok, Honey. It's just been a tough day for Sam and I think everything's just hitting him all at once."

Sam struggled to gain control over his emotions while listening to Al's side of the conversation. "How's your Mom doing?...Good, that's good….No, nothing's changed here….I will….Do you want to talk to Sam again before you hang up?...Sure, hang on a sec."

"Sam," he said directing his attention back to Sam. "You ok to talk to Katie again?"

"Yeah," Sam said wiping the remaining tears from his face and putting his hand out for the phone.

"Katie? Here he is," Al said before handing the phone over to Sam.

Sam took deep breath before putting the phone to his ear. "Sorry about that, Katie. I'm ok now."

"You sure, Sam? You sound pretty tired.

"I'm ok. It's just been a…long day. Call me after you see Mom, ok."

"I don't think that's such a great idea, Sam. It's got to be after 7 there already and by the time I can finally see Mom it's going to be too late to call you."

Sam blew out a breath between his teeth as he weighed her words and finally responded to her. "I guess you're probably right. If you won't call me, then could you at least call Al, let him know?"

"Sure, Sam. I'll make sure I call Al and let him know how things are here. I better let you go now. You do sound tired and you need to be resting. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Ok, Katie, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye."

Sam waited until he heard his sister say goodbye and hang up the phone before he hung up himself. He sat with his hand on the phone lost in his thoughts. When he felt Al's hand on his he startled and looked up at him.

"Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to startle you. How 'bout if I get this out your way?" he asked once again moving the table so that it wasn't over the bed anymore.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam answered distractedly.

"Sounds like things are going well with your Mom. That's some good news, "Al said as he once again resumed his seat by the bed.

Sam didn't hear what Al had said lost in his own thoughts.

"Sam?" Al prompted.

"Huh? What?" came Sam's confused answer.

"I said it sounds like things went well with your Mom. You ok?" Al asked with concern

"Yeah, Al. I'm fine. What time is it?" he asked.

Al looked up the clock on the wall across from the bed. "It's about 7:30. Why? You got a date I don't know about?" Al smiled.

Sam returned Al's smile with a ghost of one of his own and answered, "You should head back to the hotel, get yourself something to eat."

"What? Are you trying to get rid of me, Sam, and keep all the nurses to yourself?" Al teased him.

"Yeah, Al. That's it. I've really got a tryst set up with a couple of the nurses and I don't want you around for it. Seriously, you've been here all day. You must be getting tired. I've got a feeling I'm going to be falling asleep pretty soon so unless you're going to sit there and watch me sleep again, you might as well head on back."

"Well," Al said reluctantly, "if you think you're going to be ok I guess I will head back." He took a quick glance out the window where the snow was still falling, though not at the same speed and intensity it had been falling at earlier. "I'm probably gonna have a heck of time getting a cab in that anyway. I'll be back early tomorrow morning and if you need anything tonight you just call me at the hotel."

"Sure, I'll be fine. Trust me," he added seeing Al's unsure expression.

"All right, Sam," Al said rising from the chair he'd been sitting in. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"No, I'm all set, Al. Stop worrying."

"I told you Kid, right now it's my job to worry about you."

"I know."

"Try to have a good night, ok," Al said as he reluctantly walked to the door.

"You, too. Have a good night."

Al stopped at the door turning around to look back at Sam, still reluctant to leave him. Sam made a shooing motion with his hand so Al sighed and left the room.


	19. Chapter 19

Sam let out a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Al. He'd been feeling steadily worse since he'd spoken to Katie and it had been all he could do to hide that fact from Al. He knew Al had been worrying enough the past two days and didn't want to add to the worry. Once he was sure that enough time had passed for Al to have left the floor he reached for the call button attached to the side of the bed.

The nausea he'd felt while trying to eat what had passed as dinner had escalated and he was quickly realizing that the little bit of broth and jello he'd managed to swallow were soon going to make a very unpleasant and, no doubt, painful return. Realizing that it was highly likely that no one would be getting to his room in time, and not wanting to make a mess, Sam tried to reach for the emesis basin he'd noticed on the cabinet beside the bed. Unfortunately, it was just out of his reach so he tried to twist his upper body and stretch just the bit more he'd need to reach it. All he accomplished was knocking both the call button as well as the button for the PCA to the floor.

Just when he thought he'd end up making a spectacular mess on the polished floor Lydia walked through the door and immediately saw the predicament he was in. Without saying anything to him, she quickly grabbed the emesis basis and held it under his mouth just in time as he emptied the meager contents of his stomach. Sam crossed his arms over his chest and stomach trying to offer some support to his broken ribs and prayed that the painful retching would soon end as it awakened every pain he'd been feeling in his body and a few he hadn't been aware of. He was particularly aware of the horrible burning and ripping feeling across his abdomen where he'd had surgery and hoped that it didn't mean the stitches were being ripped out.

The retching finally ended and he leaned back limply against the pillow. The pain he was feeling was quickly reaching the unbearable stage but since he'd knocked the PCA to the floor there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately, Lydia had noticed both the PCA button as well as the call button on the floor and as soon as Sam had stopped vomiting she quickly bent down to retrieve them tucking the PCA button into Sam's hand. As soon as he felt it in his hand he pushed repeatedly eager got get relief from the pain and not caring that no matter how many times he pushed he'd get just the one dose.

He was aware that Lydia was talking to him but was unable to concentrate on what she was saying since he was using all the energy he had to bite down on the scream of pain he wanted to let loose. It wasn't so much concern for other patients that made him hold back the scream but the simple knowledge that it would most likely cause more pain. Finally, the morphine in the PCA did its work and dulled the pain to a point where Sam was able to concentrate on what Lydia was saying and respond to her.

"Sam," she was saying as she pulled back the blanket from him, "I need to check and make sure you didn't rip out any of your stitches just now. I need you to hold still for me for a little bit, ok?"

He nodded his head slightly to indicate that he'd heard her. It didn't take her very long to pull back the dressing on the wound and to check to see that the stitches were intact. "You're lucky," she told him, "you didn't rip out any of these. How are you doing now? Do you still feel nauseated?"

"Uh, yeah, a little bit," he weakly answered her.

"Do you feel like you're going to vomit again?" she asked while tucking the blanket back around him.

Sam gratefully huddled into the blanket once it had been pulled up as his body began to shake with chills. He took inventory of how his body was feeling before answering her. "I don't think so…I hope. I'm really cold, though, and my head's really pounding now."

"Al had mentioned that you had a headache when he left. Let me just check your vitals real quick and I'll get you something for that and see if we can't get you something for the nausea, as well." Lydia grabbed the blood pressure cuff from the basket behind the bed and wrapped it around his upper arm. Once again she carefully recorded his vitals in the chart at the foot of the bed and seemed concerned when she took his temperature. "Well, your temp's gone up again," she informed him. "It's higher than it was earlier, too. I'm going to put a page into the on-call and have him come down a take a look at you. In the meantime, I'll go get you some Tylenol and that should help with the headache and bring your temp down some. Ok?"

Sam nodded his agreement too weary to do much else.

Lydia disappeared out the door and returned a few minutes later with the Tylenol. She handed him the two tablets and glass of water but his hand was shaking so much from the chills as well as general weakness that she had to help him steady the glass in order to drink from it. Once he'd swallowed the Tylenol and water she helped him to settle back against the pillow and tucked the blanket in around him once again.

"Let's make sure you don't lose these, again," she said with a little smile as she tied the cord of the call bell around the safety rail and used the attached clip on the PCA button to secure it to the blanket. "I'm going to leave this right here," she continued placing the cleaned and rinsed out emesis basin on the bed next to his hand, "just in case you need it again. Try to rest until the doctor gets here," she told him.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam weakly answered. Despite the nausea he was still feeling and the pounding in his head he was feeling extremely tired and closed his eyes hoping he'd be able to sleep for at least a little while. Lydia stood watching him for a few moments to be sure he'd settled down and was as comfortable as he could be before quietly leaving the room.


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next hour and half Lydia made frequent trips into Sam's room to check on him. Though the on-call physician hadn't yet been in to see him he'd at least authorized Compasine to combat the nausea that Sam was feeling. She'd expected that after being given the shot of Compasine that Sam would settle down and finally sleep for a while but, unfortunately, he was still quite restless. Whatever sleep he did manage was being punctuated by vivid dreams, which would wake him up nearly as fast as he fell asleep. Vivid dreams could certainly be a by-product of the morphine he was taking for the pain and she had noticed the notation in his chart that he was prone to restless sleep and nightmares when he was under stress.

As she walked back to the nurse's station after checking on him again her concern must have shown. "I take it there' s no change with Mr. Beckett," one of the other nurse's, Margie, asked her.

"No. His temp's only gone down a couple of points with the Tylenol and he's pretty restless. Has there been any word from Dr. Caruthers yet?"

"Not yet and you know how he is." Margie answered her.

"He sure is taking his sweet time getting down here," Lydia commented pulling a binder out of the carousel of them at the end of the desk. The binders contained a copy of the chart kept in each of the patient's room as well as all of their contact information. Lydia quickly flipped through Sam's chart until she got to the information to contact Al at the hotel. "I'm gonna give his friend a call, let him know what's going on. I'm hoping he can come back and maybe he can get Sam to settle down and sleep for a while."

"You sure that's a good idea, Lydia?" Margie asked her. "You know how Dr. Caruthers is about after-hours visitors."

"He might not think it does a patient any good to have a friend or family member here but we know it can and does help. You know as well as I do that the chances of Sam settling down and getting some rest are better if there's someone familiar with him than one of us constantly looking in on him. Caruthers is just going to have to deal with it." Without another word to Margie she picked up the phone and dialed Al's hotel room. The phone was just completing its fourth ring and she was beginning to believe that Al wasn't in his room when he finally answered.

"Hello," Al said somewhat winded.

"Admiral Calavicci?"

"This is Calavicci. Who's this?" he demanded.

"Admiral, I'm sorry to bother you but this is Lydia Wilkerson from GW, Sam's nurse."

Before she could explain to Al why she was calling he worriedly asked, "What's wrong? What's happened with, Sam? I knew I shouldn't have left."

Lydia couldn't help but smile at the barrage of concerned questions coming from Al. He may have seemed gruff on the outside and she'd witnessed the good-natured teasing that went on between him and Sam but there was no mistaking the genuine affection the older man felt for the younger or the concern.

"Admiral, calm down, now. Sam's just having a rough patch right now. He's started running a temperature again and he's been pretty sick to his stomach. We've been in touch with Dr. Caruthers who's on call tonight and he authorized some meds to make Sam more comfortable. Right now we're just waiting for him to come down and check on Sam. He's pretty restless right now so the meds aren't really getting a chance to work on him so I was hoping, if it wasn't too much trouble, you could come back down here and just sit with him for a while. A lot of times a patient will respond better if there's a family member or friend with them."

"Yeah, sure," Al readily agreed. "I'll be right down there."

"Good. I'll clear you through security when you get here. You'll have to come in through the emergency entrance."

"Ok, I should be there in about 20 minutes – ½ hour," Al assured her.

"Great. Thanks, Admiral"

"Al," he absent-mindedly corrected her. "You can just call me Al. Tell Sam I'll be there in a little bit and thanks for calling."

Before Lydia could say anything else Al had hung up the phone.

"Well, he's on his way," Lydia told Margie. "I've got a feeling he just might break a land speed record getting here."


	21. Chapter 21

Even though the snow had stopped before Al left the hotel it was still difficult to get a cab to go to the hospital and then, once he'd gotten one, the driving was pretty slow. Instead of 20 – 30 minutes he'd told Lydia it ended up being over an hour before he finally got to the hospital.

Once he arrived there, Al quickly breezed through security, who'd been notified of his pending arrival, and headed for the bank of elevators. He tried to disguise his impatience while waiting for the elevator to arrive but it wasn't easy. Finally, the elevator doors opened to permit his entrance and he quickly got in and punched the floor that Sam was on. Luckily no one else got on the elevator nor did it stop on any other floors so he was taken directly to Sam's floor.

Al got off the elevator and headed straight for Sam's room without stopping at the nurse's desk first. He didn't see Lydia there on his way by and thought that, perhaps, she was in the room with Sam. Pushing the door open to Sam's room two things immediately jumped out at him – Lydia talking soothingly to Sam while she added a bag of IV antibiotics to the line in his arm and Sam tugging at the restraints around his wrists.

"What the hell is going on?" Al immediately demanded crossing quickly over to Sam. "Why the hell is he tied up like that?"

Lydia had been so intent on Sam she hadn't heard or noticed Al's entrance and looked up startled at his outburst. Sam was also startled by Al and stopped struggling against the restraints long enough to look over in Al's direction and call out to him.

"Al, get me out here," Sam begged him.

Al took a good look at Sam and didn't like what he saw. In the few short hours since he'd left the hospital Sam looked like he'd gone downhill – fast. It was hard to distinguish what was whiter – Sam's face or the pillow he lay on. The only exception was the red flush to his cheeks. His eyes were glazed with fever and Al was certain Sam wasn't completely lucid.

"Admiral, please lower your voice," Lydia asked him. "It's late and your shouting is going to disturb other patients."

Al looked up from Sam and across to Lydia. It was then that he realized that the IV she was working on was in Sam's right arm. He distinctly remembered it had been in Sam's left arm when he'd left earlier.

"You haven't answered my questions," Al said in a more subdued voice. "What's going on and why's Sam tied up like this?"

Lydia finally finished with the IV and stepped back from the bed and turned her full attention toward Al. "A few minutes after I hung up the phone with you Dr. Caruthers came in to check on Sam. When he came in here Sam had become combative and his fever was still spiking. When Sam pulled out his IV, Dr. Caruthers ordered that soft restraints be used on him so he wouldn't do it again. I don't like it any more than you do, Al, but someone can't be in here constantly to make sure he's not pulling the IV out."

"I'm here now," Al told her reaching down to grasp Sam's still struggling wrist and started to release the restraint. "I'll stay with him and make sure he doesn't pull anything out so he doesn't need to be tied up like this."

As soon as Al started to remove the restraint from Sam he immediately quieted down.

"Excuse me. Who are you and what do you think you're doing?" a very cultured British voice asked from behind Al.

Al whirled around to face the man who'd walked into Sam's room and immediately spied the name tag on the white lab coat that said "Caruthers".

"I'm Admiral Calavicci. It take it you're the Dr. Caruthers who ordered Sam to be tied up?" Al asked with some vehemence.

"Yes, I'm Dr. Caruthers and I'd like to know what you think you're doing in this room and releasing the restraints from my patient." Dr. Caruthers tried to push his way around Al reaching to resecure the restraint that Al had just removed. Seeing him, Sam jerked his arm away before Dr. Caruthers could get the restraint on and started struggling with the other one again.

"No," Sam said. "Al, help me. Don't let him hurt me." He swung out with the arm that Al had freed in an attempt to push Dr. Caruthers away from him. Al managed to intercept the swinging arm at just the last second before he could make contact with the doctor.

"Do you see why I've put him in restraints, Admiral? He's become quite combative and could hurt himself or someone else."

"What I see, Doctor, is scared, upset, and sick man that you're only antagonizing. In case you missed it, Sam was pretty quiet until you tried to put the restraint back on him." Al quickly turned from the Doctor and gave his attention to Sam who was weakly struggling to pull his arm out of Al's grasp.

"Hey, Sam, come on you gotta calm down, Kid. I'm not going to let him tie you back up but you've got to quiet down. You hearing me, Sam? You just need to quiet down."

Slowly Al's voice penetrated through to Sam and he stilled his struggles to get free. Once sure that Sam was no longer going to take a swing at anyone Al slackened his grasp on his arm though he did keep his hand resting on Sam's wrist. Al rested his other hand on top of Sam's head and bent down over him until he was sure he'd captured his complete attention. "That's good, Sammy. I'm gonna stay right here with you but I need you to be calm and quiet. Think you can do that for me."

Sam kept his eyes locked on Al's for a few seconds before he finally answered him in voice just above a whisper. "Ok, Al. I promise I'll be good."

As soon as Sam had given his promise Al glanced up at Lydia and silently indicated that she should release the restraint on Sam's right arm.

Dr. Caruthers was silently fuming behind Al and when he saw Lydia reach down to release the restraint decided that that was the point that he had to step in again. "Ms. Wilkerson, I want you to call security and have this man removed from this room and the hospital. You'll be lucky if I don't have you barred from here permanently. I don't know who you think you are interfering with how I'm treating my patients."

Lydia hesitated removing the restraint and seemed torn between doing what Caruthers had told her to do and following her gut which said to do what Al had asked. Before she could make her own decision, Al spoke up. "Belay that order, Lydia. Look, Doctor," Al said making the word 'doctor' seem like a slur and invading Caruthers' personal space, "Let me explain exactly who I am since apparently you haven't been paying attention to your patient. If you look in Sam's admission papers you'll see that I've been designated his next of kin. I believe that that means if he's incapable of making his own decisions regarding his medical care then I'm the one who gets to do just that so I'm making the decision that he's not going to be tied up like an animal. If you don't like that, I can request another doctor be sent up here to treat him and have you barred from this room. If that doesn't work, I can check him out of here and have him transferred to another hospital. I trust I'm making myself clear."

"Fine, Admiral, but he's your responsibility. I trust you'll be remaining here to be sure he doesn't pull out the IV's again or did you think we could have one of the nursing staff remain in here around the clock. You seem to be under the impression that I ordered restraints to be used on Mr. Beckett because I'm some kind of sadist or something. I only had his best interests in mind. In case you didn't notice, Admiral, there are other patients in this hospital so it's impossible to have a nurse sitting in here constantly to babysit Mr. Beckett." Caruthers was clearly affronted by the stand that Al had taken and willing to back down.

"Doctor, I don't know what you were thinking and I'm not sure if I really care. All I know is that the restraints, which you said you were using in the best interest of Sam, were only getting him more upset. I'm not sure how that could possibly help him in anyway. As far as me thinking a nurse could sit in here constantly, I understand that's impossible, that's why I'm going to stay here with Sam and I don't care if you have a problem with that."

Al became aware of a tugging on his sleeve and looked down to see Sam pulling on it. He quickly dismissed Caruthers from his mind and turned his complete attention to Sam bending over him once again. The gentle voice he used to address Sam was in complete contrast to the harsh tone he'd taken with the doctor.

"What is it, Sammy? What's wrong?"

"Don't yell, Al. Please don't yell it makes my head hurt."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I promise, no more yelling in here, ok? Dr. Caruthers and I are going to go out in the hall and finish talking so we don't bother you. Why don't you try to rest now, ok?"

"'K. You'll come back though, right?"

"I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

Straightening up from Sam, Al gestured for Dr. Caruthers to join him in hall. He headed out the door without even checking to see that the doctor was behind him.


	22. Chapter 22

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Al demanded as soon as the door had closed. "He wasn't like this when I left here a few hours ago."

"Admiral, I need to ask you to please restrain yourself. It's getting rather late and there are other patients on this floor."

"Fine, fine," Al impatiently agreed, though in a lower voice. "Just tell me what's wrong with him, ok. When I left earlier he seemed fine – in some pain but he was himself. Now I come back and find him tied up and…and…" Al didn't know quite how to complete the sentence, how to exactly describe how Sam was acting. Then it occurred to him, "Terrified."

Dr. Caruthers blew out a breath before launching into his explanation. He was straight to the point. He wouldn't, Al decided, ever be known for his extraordinary bedside manner. "As I'm sure Nurse Wilkerson informed you when she phoned, Mr. Beckett's temperature started to rise about 3 hours ago and it's become alarmingly high. At present we're not sure what's causing it, though all of his symptoms point to pneumonia. I detected some congestion in his left lung but a diagnosis won't be confirmed until the results come back from blood tests and a chest X-ray. Until then, I've started him on an aggressive, broad-spectrum anti-biotic and with any luck that will knock out whatever the infection is before it really gets more of a hold. Dr. Gleason will be here in the morning and he'll direct Mr. Beckett's treatment from there."

"Wait a minute, hang on. How the hell does he have pneumonia? Lydia didn't say anything about that when she called – just that his fever was up and he'd been sick to his stomach. How'd we get from that to pneumonia?" Al asked clearly confused.

"I suspect that the nausea and vomiting Mr. Beckett was suffering with earlier was a reaction to the anesthesia from surgery as well a by-product of the migraine it seems he's had most of the day – though apparently he elected not to alert the nursing staff to that. As far as pneumonia, his lung was injured and that leaves it vulnerable to just about anything. I also understand, from looking at his chart, that he was treated for bronchitis not too long ago. His respiratory system was, no doubt, still vulnerable from that as well. It's not totally unheard of, Admiral, for a patient to contract pneumonia during a hospital stay – though we do try to do what we can to avoid it. I assure you, everything that needs to be done is being done and you'll find that this will turn out to be no more than a minor setback. Now, if you have no more questions, I have others patients that I have to see." Caruthers tone of voice clearly left no room for doubt that he found talking with the family and friends of his patients something distasteful.

"Hell, yes, I have more questions," Al told him stopping him from walking away. "For starters, when are you going to get back the results from these tests?"

Dr. Caruthers turned back to Al, clearly exasperated to be stopped from going on his way. "I expect the results should be available in the morning. It is rather late right now, Admiral, so the lab isn't fully staffed. I can assure you, once the blood samples have been taken as well as the X-Rays, the results will be made available as soon as possible."

"You mean you haven't even done these tests yet?" Al asked surprised. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

Caruthers had reached the end of his patience and made no effort to hide the fact from Al. "As I said, Admiral, it's rather late right now. I can assure you all the tests that have been ordered will be carried out with all due speed. However, even though it might not seem that way to you, Mr. Beckett is neither the only patient in this hospital nor is he the sickest. Priorities must be met. Now, if you still intend to remain with Mr. Beckett, I suggest you allow me to get on with my work and stop making a nuisance of yourself in the corridor or I will have security remove you from the premises and I will have the restraints put back on Mr. Beckett. It's up to you." Without another word Caruthers turned on his heel and strode up the hallway.

Al was still standing in the corridor watching his retreating back when he heard the door to Sam's room open and close behind him and turned to see Lydia step out of the room and also glance up the corridor at Dr. Caruthers retreating back. "He's a real charmer, isn't he?" she said.

"Who the hell does that nozzle think he is?" Al asked her, not expecting an answer.

"He's got a real great bedside manner, doesn't he," she stated needlessly. "It's no wonder he's on the overnight shift where he really doesn't have to interact with anyone. Speaking of the overnight shift, I'm going to be going off shift in just a few minutes. Emily will be Sam's nurse tonight – she'll be completely briefed on Sam's condition and I'll make sure she knows you'll be staying with Sam as a long as you like. She's really great."

"Thanks," Al said.

"Look, Sam was starting to drift off to sleep but he was asking for you. Why don't you go on back in there and keep him company."

Al nodded his thanks to Lydia before pushing open the door and stepping back inside.


	23. Chapter 23

The first thing that Al noticed when he walked back into the room was that the overhead light had been turned off and just the small light over the bed had been left on. In the dim light Al at first thought that Sam had fallen asleep and he quietly approached the bed. He wasn't sure if his approach had woken Sam or if Sam just sensed his presence near the bed but as soon as he stopped next to it, Sam's eyes snapped open and locked on him.

"Hey," Al greeted him. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Sam's voice, when he answered, was hoarse as well as sleepy. "I wanted to make sure you came back."

"I told you I would, didn't I," Al reassured him.

"Mmm hmmm," Sam replied starting to drift back to sleep. "You always keep your promises."

"Not all the time," Al murmured too low for Sam to hear. He was remembering a few years ago at the airport just before Thelma Beckett boarded a plane back to Hawaii. It had only been a few short weeks since Donna had walked out on Sam and she was still worried about how Sam was dealing with it. Just before boarding the plane she extracted a promise from Al that he'd look after Sam for her and make sure nothing happened to him. He hadn't been very successful keeping that promise.

He reached down and patted Sam's arm. "You just rest," he told him in a louder voice. "I'll be here when you wake up."

The only answer he got from Sam was a soft cough. Confident that Sam had drifted off to sleep, Al circled around the bed to resume his seat from earlier in the day. He'd no sooner sat down when Sam's eyes popped open again and he raised his head from the pillow and looked around frantically until he finally found Al again. "No more restraints?" he asked. The fear had once again crept back into his voice.

Al quickly got up from the chair and went over to Sam to reassure him. "No more restraints, Sam. You just gotta lie still and stop pulling out your IV, though. Think you can do that."

"Yeah, I'll be good, Al. I promise."

The fearful and almost childlike quality Sam's voice had taken on was setting off alarm bells for Al. There was more going on than met the eye but Al was damned if he knew what it was. Almost as if he could read Al's thoughts, Sam's next words started to fill in the blanks.

"I don't like to be tied up. The big kids did that to me when I was little – left me out in the old abandoned barn on the McDonald farm. They didn't like me…said I was too smart…but I didn't mean to be. Tom made them tell him where they left me and he came and got me. Tom always took care of me. He was always there…just like you are." As he was talking, Sam's voice had grown softer and softer and he was struggling to keep his eyes open as he continued. "He went away, though. Tommy went away and never came back. You won't go away, will you, Al?" he asked more forecefully reaching a hand out to Al.

Al took the outstretched hand in his and with the other brushed the hair back from Sam's forehead, careful to avoid the bandages. "I'm gonna stay right here, Sam. I'm with you for the long haul. You just close your eyes now and rest."

"'K," Sam murmured before finally drifting back to sleep.

Once he was sure that Sam was in a deep sleep and not likely to wake for a while Al resumed his seat beside the bed. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Sam?" he quietly said.

As long as they'd known each other and as close as their friendship was, there were still pieces to the puzzle that made Sam Sam that Al was still missing. To be fair, there were pieces to the puzzle that made Al Al that Sam was missing as well.

At least he had a good idea now why it was Sam had reacted so fearfully to being restrained. Like his fear of heights, it was something that was firmly rooted in him from childhood and, just like that fear of heights, Tom was closely associated with this as well.

Tom. It seemed so much of what drove Sam, or sometimes seemed to handicap him, always came back to Tom. Twenty years after his death and Sam was still coming to terms with it. Al knew that Sam's plea that he not leave wasn't just a request that Al stay with him in the hospital. Rather, it was a plea that Al not leave him like Tom had. Al meant it when he told Sam he'd be there for the long haul. He'd see him through this current crisis but afterwards, for as long as Sam needed the support of Al, he'd be there for him.

Truthfully, in some ways the faith and trust Sam seemed to have in him sometimes scared Al. The last person he could remember who'd put that kind of faith and trust in him and, yes, had depended on him, had been Trudy. Even Beth, whom he still loved, had never looked at him with the same wide-eyed look of innocent trust that Trudy had and Sam sometimes did. He'd failed Trudy, though. He hadn't been there when she needed him. He'd failed to protect her. It frightened him that the same thing could happen to Sam if he didn't remain vigilant.

Al was pulled from his musings by the sound of a series of sharp coughs from Sam who'd woken up and was trying to push himself into an upright position. Al quickly got out of the chair and used the controls on the bed to raise the head of it hoping it would ease the cough. Sam had wrapped his arms around his mid-section and chest and Al didn't even want to think about what the coughing must feel like to broken ribs and recent surgery.

He felt helpless since there was nothing he could do to either ease the ragged coughing or to take away the pain it was causing. The coughing fit finally started to ease and Al took the opportunity to remind Sam to use the PCA to at least help with the pain – an idea which Sam readily agreed to.

Al was just helping Sam to settle back against the pillows when the door to the room opened. Al looked over to the door to see who was coming in and saw who he guessed must be Emily, Sam's night nurse. She was an older woman and seemed to Al to be very stern. Her appearance, though, belied her manner as she approached Sam and started to fuss over him.

"There, there, Sam. It looks like you're not having a good night so far. Let's see what we can do to fix that, shall we," she said as she started to fix the blankets covering Sam. "I'm sorry, we didn't have an opportunity to meet yesterday," she said turning her attention to Al. "I'm Emily Rearden. I'll be looking after Sam tonight. You must be Admiral Calavicci. Lydia told me you'd be staying with Sam tonight."

"It's nice to meet you Ma'am. I'll try not to get in your way but given the alternative of Sam being put into restraints, I'd rather just sit with him."

"That's not a problem, Admiral," Emily reassured him. "I'm sure Sam will rest much better knowing there's a friendly face here. Sam," she said turning her attention back to Sam, "I'm just going to do a quick run through of your vitals and then I'll leave you to get some sleep."

"Yes Ma'am," Sam agreed. To Al he looked just a bit more lucid now than he had just a short while earlier.

Emily was just finishing recording Sam's vitals in the chart at the foot of his bed when the door to the room opened again to admit two x-ray technicians pushing a portable x-ray machine. "Looks like we finished up here just in time," Emily brightly told Sam. "Admiral, you're going to have to wait in the hall until they're finished taking some pictures." When she saw that Al looked less than willing to leave she added, "I'm sure Sam will be just fine until you get back in here. Let's let these two do their work and I'll take you down to the nurse's lounge and show you where the good coffee is."

Al nodded his agreement to Emily but didn't leave the room before assuring Sam that he'd be back. "I'm just going to go outside for a little while 'til they're done with you, ok, Sam. I won't be gone long."

"I'll be ok, Al. Honest," Sam assured seeing the skepticism on Al's face.

Al didn't respond to Sam's assurance, just nodded his head and followed Emily out of the room.


	24. Chapter 24

Al was leaning on the wall across from Sam's room when the tech's came out 15 minutes later. He gave them just enough time to clear the doorway before rushing back in. Sam may have seemed to have been more lucid and more in touch with his surroundings but Al didn't want to push his luck and leave him alone any longer than he had to.

He wasn't overly pleased when he saw how Sam had been left. Al understood that they would have had to put the bed flat to take the X-rays, unfortunately, they'd left Sam in that position. Sam was trying to use the bed controls to get himself into a more upright position but his efforts were being hampered by the coughing fit that had overtaken him. Al wordlessly headed for the bed and raised the head of it for Sam.

Once he was upright, Sam again wrapped his arms around his mid-section and chest, this time curling up around them as much as they could. Again Al felt helpless to do anything more than rub Sam's bowed back and murmur words of encouragement until the harsh coughing finally abated. Once it had stopped, Al helped Sam to lean back against the pillows and smoothed the blanket over him before turning to grab the cup of water off the bed-side table which he held for Sam while he drank from it.

"You ok, now?" Al asked after he'd returned the cup to the table.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "It just hurts like hell."

"You're using the pump, aren't you?" Al asked him. He knew that Sam could be pretty stubborn when he wanted to and he wouldn't put it past Sam to be stubborn about the pain medication.

"I'm not a masochist, Al. I'm using it as much as it'll let me. It's still hurting, though." Sam grimaced and shifted in the bed trying to get more comfortable

"Maybe they need to change it so you're getting more," Al suggested.

Sam tried to shift again in the bed before answering Al. "I doubt it. Morphine can suppress respiration. I've got a collapsed lung and, I'm guessing, pneumonia. The last thing the doctor's going to do is up the amount of morphine I'm getting and compromise my breathing more. It's starting to settle down anyway – just taking a little longer for it to work."

Al noticed that Sam had had to stop frequently to take a breath while he'd been talking. "You having trouble breathing?" he asked.

Sam nodded his head answered, "Some. It's a bit easier when I'm more upright. It'll pass."

"Yeah, well, let's not wait for it to pass," Al told him reaching for the call button. "Let's see if someone can do something to make it easier.

It didn't take more than a minute before Emily was in the room. "There something I can do for you, Sam," she asked him.

"Yeah," Al said taking the initiative to answer. "He seems to be having trouble breathing right now."

"Yes, it does," Emily agreed eyeing Sam before reaching behind him for the oxygen mask in the basket on the wall behind the bed. "Let's get this on you and see if that helps out any," she told him while slipping the elastic from the mask behind his head and reaching to adjust the flow. "There, that helping you out any?"

Before Sam could answer her he started to cough again and had to pull the mask down away from his face. Thankfully the cough was neither as harsh as it was last time nor did it last nearly as long. It was still quite painful, though, as evidenced by the way Sam tried to curl into himself and the grimace on his face.

Once the coughing fit had ended and Sam had collapsed back limply against the pillows Emily reached over to put the mask over his face again. "This isn't really going to work with that cough but I want you to keep it on until I can switch it out to a cannula. I'll be right back," she told him leaving the room.

She came back to the room about 5 minutes later with the cannula as well as several towels and a roll of adhesive tape. She quickly switched the mask for the cannula and asked Sam if the supplemental oxygen was making his breathing any easier, which he assured her it was. She took a quick look at the monitor showing his oxygen saturation level and seemed satisfied with what she saw.

Once assured that Sam was breathing easier Emily turned to the towels she'd dropped on the over-bed table and began to fold them and then wrap them in the adhesive tape. Both Sam and Al watched her curiously as she did it before the curiosity finally got the better of Al.

"What's that for?" he asked her.

"This," Emily said holding up the folded and taped square of towels, "is going to be Sam's new best friend."

When both men looked at her quizzically she explained further, "I'm betting every time you start to cough or even just move around it probably feels like you being split open." Sam nodded his agreement of what she'd said as she pulled back the blanket and rest folded towels against him. "Next time you start to cough or even if you're trying to move around you just hold that against your stomach and it'll act as a sort of a brace. Now it's not going to make the pain go away completely but it'll certainly help make it a bit more tolerable and it'll give you something to cough against."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"Yeah, thanks," All added.

Emily pulled the blanket back up over Sam. "You should try to rest now and get some sleep," she told and then left the room.

"What time is it?" Sam asked Al after Emily had left the room.

"Uh, it's about quarter past 12. Why, you got a date or something?"

A small smile graced Sam's face at Al's teasing. "You should go back to the hotel, Al. Get some sleep. I'm sorry they called you back here. I'll be ok, now."

"No way, Sam," Al answered while once again resuming his seat. "I'll be fine right here unless, of course, you want Caruthers to come back and tie you up again 'cause I wouldn't put it past the nozzle to do it. Besides, I know where the good stash of coffee is now."

Sam didn't seem to hear Al's comment about the coffee. If it was at all possible, his face had gotten even whiter at Al's comment about the restrains. Al saw the effect his words had on Sam and hastened to reassure him. "Sam, I'm not gonna let that happen so I don't want you to even think about it. I shouldn't have said that so just forget I did, ok? Sam? You listening to me?"

"Yeah, Al. I'm listening. I just…I don't like the feeling of being restrained."

"I think you made that clear earlier," Al told him with a small smile. "I can't tell you how tempted I was to let you clock that nozzle. He had it coming and a whole lot more."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you didn't let me." Sam told him. "If I had, I don't think there's anything you could have said or done that would have stopped him from putting them…" Sam was interrupted by a yawn.

"Hey, enough of this chatter," Al told him. "You need to close your eyes now and get some sleep. I'm gonna be here 'til you wake up so you just get some sleep now."

"Thanks," Sam mumbled already starting to drift off.

"Don't mention it, Kid," Al told him, though he doubted Sam was awake to hear him. Sure that Sam finally seemed to be sleeping somewhat restfully, Al slouched down in the chair and prepared himself for what he knew was going to be a long night.


	25. Chapter 25

The rhythm of the hospital at night was much different from its daytime rhythm. With only essential workers on duty and no visitors, the atmosphere took on a much more hushed and subdued quality.

When Al was pulled from a light doze by the sound of Sam coughing, he noted that the hospital was once again resuming its daytime rhythm. The night had been restful for neither him nor Sam. After the departure of the x-ray techs, Sam had only been allowed to sleep peacefully for about 20 minutes before a lab tech came in to take the blood needed for the ordered tests. In the short time that Sam had been sleeping, his fever had again gone up and he was once again disoriented and fearful of what was happening around him when he woke.

Al spent at least five minutes talking soothingly to Sam before he finally calmed down enough for the blood samples to be taken. Even then, Sam was still wary of the tech and kept looking to Al for reassurance.

Emily confirmed that Sam's temperature had risen again when she came into the room a few minutes after the lab tech had left. He'd mentioned to her on his way out that Sam had become disoriented and she'd come in to check on him. A quick check of his temperature revealed that it had gone up to just a bit over 103. Emily clucked when she saw this and told Al that she was going to get more Tylenol for Sam to take to see if that would bring the fever down any.

After she'd left the room, Al rummaged in the cabinet beside the bed and found a small basin as well as a washcloth. He filled the basin with tepid water from the sink in the bathroom and soaked the washcloth in it before wringing it out and folding it to lie across Sam's forehead. Since it didn't seem as if anything "modern medicine" could provide was doing anything to bring the fever down Al figured it couldn't hurt to try something else.

Emily returned to the room shortly after with more Tylenol for Sam to take and smiled her approval at Al's attempt to help bring the fever down. Sam had already been drifting back to sleep and she'd had to rouse him long enough to get him to swallow the Tylenol and some water.

That was the start of what would prove to be a very long night. Sam wouldn't sleep for stretches longer than 20 – 30 minutes before he'd wake. Mostly, it was nightmares disturbing his sleep. It didn't take too much figuring to know what exactly was rousing him from sleep since he'd wake up calling for his mother. On more than one occasion when simply talking to him didn't seem to break through the barrier of the nightmare, Al would have to resort to physically holding Sam down in order to stop him from trying to pull out the IV and get out of the bed.

It was clear to see that Sam was so disoriented that he had no idea where he was or why he was there. He only knew he had to get to his mother and he was going to do anything possible to do just that. Al felt like a monster holding him down. He kept trying to explain to Sam over and over where he was, that he was safe and his mother was ok. He'd only seem to get through to him for a short time before having to go through the same ritual the next time Sam woke up.

A couple of times, though, it wasn't his mother that Sam dreamed about. Al guessed from what Sam was crying out that in his mind he was that little boy again who'd been tied up and left alone in an abandoned barn. If he felt like a monster holding Sam down when he called out for his mother his heart ached with the thought of Sam as a young child tied up and left in a dark, abandoned barn.

The sky was just lighting with the coming of dawn when Sam yet again started to call out for his mother. Once more Al tried to talk to him and calm him down but this time the dream seemed to really have Sam in its grip. He first tried to pull the oxygen from his face.

"No, Sam, you've got to leave that there," Al told him while pushing his hands down. Sam made another attempt to pull it off but his hand was again intercepted by Al. Next he tried to reach for the IV in his arm to pull it out but Al quickly grasped his wrist and stopped him.

"Leave that alone, Sam, it's helping you," Al explained.

"No, I've got to go to Mom," Sam begged. "She needs me. Let me go." Sam's fever-glazed eyes looked frantically around the room never lighting on one thing for more than a passing moment. He didn't seem to see Al leaning over him, although he knew someone was there stopping him from leaving. He continued his struggles to pull the IV and oxygen from himself but he was so weakened by both his injuries and the fever that it didn't take much effort for Al to hold him on the bed. Finally Sam ceased his struggles though Al didn't know if it was because he'd finally gotten through to him or simply because Sam didn't have anymore strength to struggle. Al suspected it was the latter since Sam was still weakly calling for his mother.

Sure that Sam had given up his attempt to pull the IV or to get out of bed Al released him. Hitting on an idea of something that might give Sam some comfort he reached into his pocket where he was still carrying Sam's keys. He pulled it out and removed the keys from the ring so that all that was left with was the round medallion. He pressed it into Sam's hand, wrapping his fingers around it hoping that it would bring comfort to the younger man.

"Your Mom's ok," Al assured him for what seemed like the 100th time since the long night had begun. "She's ok, Sam but she wants you to rest. Ok? Do you understand me?"

"Al?" Sam questioned as he seemed to look at and recognize Al for the first time since waking up.

"Yeah, Kid, it's Al. You with me now?" Al questioned feeling some relief that Sam seemed, at least for the moment, to be in touch with where he was.

Sam wordlessly nodded and opened his hand to see what Al had placed there. "Mom gave me this," he needlessly told Al. "She said it would bring me luck." He paused for moment and rubbed his thumb over the raised Caduceus before he continued. "It makes me feel closer to her, like she's here, you know?" Before he could continue any further he was beset by yet another coughing fit, doubling over around the square of towels Emily had given him earlier.

Al rubbed Sam's bowed back and talked softly to him. "Easy, Sam. I know it's hurting but it's getting the gunk out of your lungs." He grabbed a few tissues and held them to Sam's mouth. The cough had turned productive a couple of hours ago and Emily had advised him that that was good since it was moving the fluids out of Sam's lungs. Once the coughing abated, Al wiped Sam's mouth with the tissues before balling them up and depositing them in the trash can.

"Sorry," Sam whispered as he eased back against the pillow.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Al reassured him. "Better you get that crap out of you instead of it just sitting there. Here, drink this," he told him holding a cup with a bent straw for Sam to drink out of. Emily had told him that the more fluids they could get into Sam the better since it would help to dilute the fluids in his lungs. Al had taken it as his personal responsibility to get as much water as he could into Sam and anytime that he was awake and coherent, would insist that he drink more water.

Once Sam had drunk his fill, Al put the cup back onto the table and again dipped the washcloth in the basin of water before wringing it out and using it to wipe off Sam's face. "You don't feel as hot as you did earlier," he told him. Sam's temperature had fluctuated up and down all night though it had never dropped below 102. He noticed that Sam's eyes were starting to droop and that he again fighting to stay awake. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep," he told him, "I'll be here when you wake up."

Al hadn't even finished saying the words before Sam had drifted off to sleep. Glancing down at Sam's right hand, Al noticed that he was still holding tightly to the medallion.

That had been about two hours ago. Sam had slept peacefully since then until being woken once again by the cough. Once again Al was at his side going through what had by now become reflex helping Sam to get through the coughing fit. Same was just settling back against pillow when the door to the room opened and Emily stepped in.

"How's he doing?" she asked Al.

"Awake and pretty uncomfortable but he looks a lot better than he did during the night," Al answered.

"I'm just going to get a final set of vitals on you, Sam, before my shift ends. Hopefully tonight will be a better night than the last two you had."

"I hope so, Ma'am," Sam answered her. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

Emily wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm before answering, "Bother? You've been no such thing, Samuel Beckett. Believe me, I've had patients who haven't been nearly as sick as you are who have been much more of a bother. Now just hush so I can get this done."

Emily quickly and efficiently finished taking Sam's vitals. She was quite pleased when she saw the readout for his temperature. "Well, now, I think you just set a record for the night," she told him with a smile. "It's down to 101.6. That's the first time you've gone under 102 since I came on duty. Looks like that antibiotic is starting to kick in."

"That's a relief," Al said.

Emily finished recording Sam's vitals in the chart and hung it back at the foot of the bed. Before leaving the room she patted Sam on the arm telling him, "I'll see you again tonight and I'll expect that temperature to stay right where it is or go lower. Am I making myself clear, young man?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam assured her. "I'll do my best."

"You just see that you do," she said before leaving the room.

Once Emily had left the room Sam turned his attention to Al. "You should really get out of here and go back to the hotel. Don't take this the wrong way, Al, but you look about as good as I'm feeling right now."

"Gee, that's the thanks a guy gets for sitting with his best friend all night – insults," Al responded with mock annoyance.

"Seriously, Al, thank you. You really should go get some rest yourself right now, though – don't come back 'til tomorrow. You've earned it. I promise, I'm not going to try to rip the IV out or take a swing at any doctors. I don't think I could do anything more strenuous right now than just sleeping."

Al glanced down at his watch. It was nearly quarter to seven in the morning and he realized that he'd gotten no more than a few minutes of sleep here and there in the last 24 hours. "I'll make a deal with you, Sam, I'll wait here 'til I know you're sleeping and then I'll go back to the hotel for a few hours shut eye myself. Then I'm coming back. I'm not going to argue with you on that either. Remember, your Mom made me promise to look out for you and there's no way I'm gonna get on Thelma Beckett's bad side. Face it, Kid, you're stuck with me until you get out of here."

"Al? My Mom – did you talk with Katie last night? Did she get to see Mom?"

Al heaved a sigh. Even though he'd gotten some good news on Thelma he'd been hoping to go a little longer before Sam broached the subject and got himself worried about it anew. "I did talk with Katie last night. When she couldn't get me at the hotel she tried calling here. She saw your Mom for a while last night and she's doing well, Sam. Katie said she was awake for a little while and she was more concerned about you than she was herself." When Al saw Sam frown at the news that his mother was worrying about him he hastened to add, "Hey, she's a mom, isn't it a given that she's gonna worry about her kids?" Al did wait for Sam to answer before he went on, "Katie said that your mom told her to tell me to tell you that she loves you and you're not to worry about her. I know, easier said than done. The doctor told Katie as long as your Mom keeps doing as good as she is she'll be out of the hospital in a couple of days – probably before you are."

"Thanks, Al. Did she say if I can call later and talk to Mom? I know you're all telling me she's going to be ok but I want to hear it from her – I want to hear her voice."

"I know you do, Kid. Later this afternoon we'll give them a call and see if you can talk to her, ok?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam said around a yawn.

"Good, now it's time for you to close your mouth and close your eyes and go to sleep. You need to rest, Sam, so we can get you out of here."

Sam nodded his agreement and turned his face into the pillow and closed his eyes. Al waited until he was sure he was asleep before quietly promising that he'd be back in a couple of hours and then slipping out the door.


	26. Chapter 26

By the time Al got back to the hotel he was so tired he could have easily fallen asleep standing up in the elevator. He didn't even bother undressing, just took off his shoes and climbed into bed fully dressed and immediately fell into a deep sleep. He'd only meant to sleep for a couple of hours but back to back near sleepless nights left his body demanding it's fair share of sleep. When he finally did rouse back to wakefulness and looked at the clock he saw that it was 2:00. He'd slept much longer than he'd wanted and, consequently, left Sam alone much longer than he'd told him would. Thankfully, since there'd been no call from the hospital in that time period, it must have meant that Sam had been doing better – or at least he was no worse than he had been when Al had left the hospital.

He quickly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and change before heading back to the hospital. He placed a call down to room service before turning on the shower and ordered a quick lunch for himself. By the time he finished his shower, room service was knocking on the door with his lunch. He quickly wolfed it down and headed out of the hotel back to the hospital.

By the time Al arrived on Sam's floor at the hospital it was already nearly 3:30. He spied Lydia at the nurses' station and stopped there first to see how Sam was doing.

"Boy am I glad to see you," she said when she saw Al.

"Why?" Al asked. "Something wrong with Sam? I asked that I be called if there was."

"I guess that all depends on your definition of 'wrong'. Physically, he's doing about as good as he was when you left this morning going by his chart. He's still running a fever but it's no where near what it was last night. When Dr. Gleason saw him on rounds he was satisfied that he was responding to the antibiotic. Oh, by the way, Dr. Gleason wanted to speak with you when you got here. Seems Dr. Caruthers was none to happy with you last night." Lydia couldn't resist a bit of smile when she imparted that news to Al.

"I wasn't exactly thrilled with him myself so I'm looking forward to that talk. Now what's up with Sam?"

"Since my shift started, I've got to say Sam's been a bit…well, he's a bit put out over something. He's been polite enough but he's just been really short with everyone. I'm sure he's worrying about his Mama and still not feeling very well himself but, well, the way he's acting is like night and day compared to yesterday. Hopefully you can figure out what's eating at him."

"I've got an idea I might have something to do with that. I told him I'd be back a lot sooner than this and that when I got back I'd call his sister for him so he could talk to her. He's hoping to get the chance to talk to his mother. He's probably just gotten impatient waiting. I'm surprised he didn't just try to call himself," Al told her.

"I think he did but he didn't know the number or the hospital his Mama's at. I guess that could explain why he's so put out right now. Well, good luck," she told him with a smile.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need it."

Al pasted an overly cheerful smile on his face and pushed open the door to Sam's room.

"Where have you been?" Sam asked as soon as Al had opened the door and taken a step in.

"Hello to you, too," Al said as he walked further into the room and let the door close behind him. "I'd say you must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed but since they're not letting you get up yet, I guess that doesn't really apply."

"That's not funny, Al. You said you'd be right back. It's been hours. Did you meet someone on the way to the hotel?" Sam accused.

"No Sam," Al responded becoming exasperated himself. "I didn't meet anyone. I was alone in the room…sleeping. I'm not as young as I used to be and I guess a couple of hours sleep in 48 hours just isn't enough anymore. I said I'd be back and here I am."

"I've been waiting for you all day. You said you'd be right back," Sam persisted.

Under the surliness of Sam's tone of voice, Al noticed something else – a note of fear. It wasn't just impatience that had been affecting Sam but, whether he realized it or not, there also was the fear that Al wouldn't be back. Recognizing the fear, Al softened his tone. "Sam, I know I said I'd only be gone for a couple of hours and I meant it. I slept a lot longer than I thought I would. I'm sorry if that upset you. I didn't mean for that happen."

Al's heartfelt apology seemed to sap Sam of his anger. He blew out a breath before apologizing himself, "I know, Al. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just feel like I'm going crazy in here. I don't know anything outside this room and it's driving me nuts."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I think you might want to make it up to Lydia, though. Remember, she's the one who's gonna stick you with a needle."

When Al saw that Sam's face had turned downcast at his teasing he hastened to add, "Hey, come on, I was just teasing you. I'm sure you've been a perfect gentlemen. You're too much of a boy scout not to be."

"I don't suppose you've talked to Katie today, have you?" Sam asked changing the subject.

"No, I haven't talked with her yet."

Before Al could continue he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone in Sam's room. "Hello," he said answering it.

"Is that Katie? How's Mom? Can I talk to her?" Sam anxiously asked reaching out for the phone.

Al held up a hand asking Sam to quiet down while he continued to talk to whoever was on the other end of the phone. "No, he's right here and he's doing better than he was last night…I'm sure he'd love that as well. Hang on a second."

Al started to hand the phone to Sam. "There's someone on the phone who's anxious to talk with you. You think you're up to it?" he asked with just a hint of a smile.

Sam shot Al a look that seemed to ask if he was crazy while reaching his hand out for the phone. "Give me it," he said trying to snatch the phone from Al's grasp.

Al let out a bit of a chuckle before surrendering the phone to Sam.

"Katie? How's Mom?" Sam asked as soon as he got the phones.

"She's doing well, Sam," the voice on the other end answered, "though she's not used to be called 'Katie'."

"Mom?" Sam questioned in surprise while Al smiled as if he'd just solved the Riddle of the Sphinx. "Mom? Is that you? Are you ok? I'm so happy to….," he was cut off by a cough before he could complete what he was saying.

"Hey, take it easy and breathe," Al advised.

"Sam? Sweetheart?" came his mother's concerned voice over the phone. "Are you ok?"

"I'm here, Mom. I'm ok," Sam hastened to reassure her. "I've just got a…a…tickle in my throat that's all," he explained looking over to Al and begging him with his eyes to make sure his mother didn't know how sick he was. Al responded with a slight nod before wandering over the window and looking out at the scene below giving Sam some privacy to talk to his mother.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm so happy to hear your voice. I've been so worried about you," Thelma told him.

"I'm ok, Mom. I'm going to be fine. I've been worried about you. I'm so sorry I'm not there with you."

"I know, Sam. I know you'd be here if you could. I also know exactly how you feel. I shouldn't be lying in this hospital bed – I should be there in Washington with you."

Sam let out another soft cough before talking again, "How are you feeling? You're not in any pain or anything are you?"

"I'm fine, Sam. The doctor's taking care of everything and if he misses anything…well, you're sister's been making sure nothing gets overlooked. Dr. Michaelson said I'll probably be out of here and home in a few more days. I told him I wanted to get out of here and fly out there to be with you but he won't hear of it. Your sister is agreeing with him."

"So am I, Mom. You need to rest and get well – not fly across the country. You've got to do what the doctor's telling you to do. I'm gonna be ok."

"But you're alone, Sam. I hate the thought that you're alone in that hospital. I should be there with you," she argued.

"I'm not alone, Mom," Sam reassured her glancing in Al's direction. "Al's been here with me the whole time." Sam let out a small chuckle before continuing, "He practically slept here last night to keep me company so stop worrying about me being alone – 'cause I'm not."

"I know, Sam, but I'm youre mother so I get to worry about that. It's in the job description, you know," she told him with a laugh of her own.

"You sound like you're tired, Mom. You should rest now."

"Are you trying to get rid of your mother, Samuel John Beckett?" Thelma asked him playfully.

"No, Ma'am, I just don't want you to tire yourself out."

"Well, don't worry about that. I'm sure your sister would take the phone away from me long before that could happen. I'm not sure who the parent is and who the child is right now. You sound like you need to rest, though," she continued when Sam let out another cough.

This time it took Sam a little longer to get the cough under control before he could respond to his mother. Concerned at hearing the coughing Al turned back from the window and came over to stand by the bed. Sam finally was able the get the cough under control and raised the phone to talk again.

"Sorry, Mom," he said in a voice made hoarse from the coughing. "I'll make a deal with you, I'll rest if you promise to do the same thing."

"I want to talk to Al first, Sam, then I promise I'll get some rest. I love you, Sammy."

"I love you too, Mama," he answered in a strangled voice, his eyes growing bright with unshed tears.

"Sam, Sweetheart, I'll talk to you later after you get some rest," Thelma assured him hearing the choked back tears in his voice. "Can you give the phone to Al, now, Honey?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered her, his voice a whisper as he handed the phone to Al. "She wants to talk to you," he forced out, wiping the tears from his eyes when Al took the phone from him.

"Mrs. Beckett?" Al said.

"Tell me the truth, Admiral, how's my son really?" she asked him in a no-nonsense voice. Al glanced down at Sam in the bed who was silently wiping tears from his eyes and looking up at Al. Sam had a fair idea of what his mother wanted to talk to Al about and again he silently begged Al not to tell her the full extent of his injuries or his illness.

"He's doing as well as he can at this point, Mrs. Beckett," Al hedged.

"That's not an answer, Admiral, and you know it. You're not really going to tell me what's going on, though, so I won't push you," she sighed. "Just take care of my son for me."

"I will, Ma'am," he assured her. "Goodbye."

Al hung up the phone and turned back to Sam. "You doing ok, Sam?"

"I'm ok, Al," Sam reassured him while reaching for the box of tissues on the table near the bed. Seeing that he couldn't quite reach it, Al put the box down on the bed next to Sam.

"She sounded good," Al said trying to fill the silence.

"Yeah, but tired," Sam answered after blowing his nose.

"That's to be expected, isn't it? Have you heard yourself lately?"

"Huh?"

"How do you think you sound, Sam?"

"Guess I didn't really think about that."

"Yeah, well, you sound exhausted. Shouldn't you take your own advice now and get some rest?" Al asked him.

"Isn't that all I've been doing?" Sam asked with a wry smile. "I think I've slept so much I won't be able to for about a week."

"Hate to break it to ya, Pal, but you look like you could use about a week of sleep. How are you feeling, anyway?"

Sam didn't get a chance to answer before the door to the room opened and Lydia came in. "Excuse me, Sam, there's a police officer outside who'd like to talk with you if you're feeling up to it. If you're not I can have him talk with Dr. Gleason."

"No, it's fine," Sam told her. "Tell him to come in."

"I'll be right back with him, then," Lydia said before leaving the room.

Al took a good look at Sam. Although he seemed much better than he had been last night and early in the morning, to Al he still didn't look up to talking to the police. His face was still the same color as the pillowcase except for the bruises that dotted it and the dark shadows under his eyes. He was still breathing with the aid of the oxygen canula and even though he hadn't said anything, Al knew that he was in a fair amount of pain – and still using the PCA. In a word, he looked fragile.

"You sure you're up for this?" Al asked him.

"I'm sure, Al. I'll be fine," Sam tried to reassure.

Before Al could get a chance to argue differently the door opened admitting Lydia and the police officer. "Sam," she said, "this is Officer Donaldson. If you need anything just buzz and I'll be right in." Sam nodded his understanding and she turned her attention to Donaldson. "He's still not up to 100 so please, try not to tire him out."

"No, Ma'am," Donaldson answered.

Lydia gave Sam one last searching look, trying to ascertain that he was, indeed, up to talking with Officer Donaldson before she left the room.

"Dr. Beckett, I'm sorry to be bothering you and I won't take up much of your time. I'm handling the follow up investigation of the accident you were involved in and just had a few questions for you. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all. I'm not sure how much help I'll be, though. My memory's pretty much non-existent for that time period. Al might be able to help you out more." Sam said gesturing to Al.

Officer Donaldson turned to Al and started flipping through his notebook. "You're Admiral Albert Calavicci?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Al answered.

"I also need to talk with you as well. Right now could I ask you to step outside while I talk with Dr. Beckett."

Al was reluctant to leave Sam alone and told Officer Donaldson, "I'd rather stay here while you're talking with Sam."

"I understand Admiral but if you're here you can say something that might influence Dr. Beckett's memory. If you're concerned about him being alone, you can send the nurse back in but I really must ask you to step out."

"Go on, Al," Sam said gesturing that Al should leave. "I'll be ok by myself."

"If you're sure, Sam," Al answered still reluctant to leave but doing Sam's bidding all the same. "Do you want me to send Lydia back in?"

"No," Sam told him. "I'll be fine by myself."

"All right, if you need anything, though, I'll be right outside," Al told him before leaving the room.

Once the door closed behind Al, Officer Donaldson grabbed the extra chair in the corner of the room and set it down next to the bed and took a seat in it.

"I need you to tell me all you can remember about the accident, Dr. Beckett."

"Like I said, I don't really remember much – a little more than I did yesterday but still not a whole lot. It's mostly just a blur. I was crossing the street, heard Al yell out my name and when I looked back to see what he wanted…well, that's where everything just gets really blurry."

"Do you remember the car at all?"

"Uh," Sam thought trying to dredge up some kind of memory of the accident, "I remember something dark colored. I don't know if that was the car or what, though. It could have been the ground for all I can remember. Mostly I just remember Al calling out my name and then a whole lot of pain and nothing else 'til I woke up here. I'm sorry I can't be more help." Sam was interrupted from saying anything more when another coughing fit set in. It didn't last very long but it still left him feeling like a wrung out rag.

Once he'd finally brought it under control he reached for the glass of water on the table only to find that it was empty. Officer Donaldson immediately jumped up from his seat grabbing the water pitcher and re-filled the cup for him before sitting down again.

"Thanks," Sam murmured once he'd drunk some of the water. "I take it you haven't found the driver yet."

"No, we haven't," Officer Donaldson told him. "We were hoping you might have been able to give us a better description of the car."

"I'm sorry. I honestly don't think I would have even known that a car hit me if I hadn't been told."

"I understand, Dr. Beckett. I'll leave you to rest now, I'm sorry to have bothered you," Donaldson said rising from his seat. He put out his hand to shake Sam's. "I hope you're feeling well soon, Doctor. Thank you for your time."

"I wish I could have helped more," Sam told him reaching to take his hand.

Donaldson nodded his head and wished Sam a good day before leaving the room. It was about 10-15 minutes after Donaldson left before Al came back to the room. Sam guessed that Officer Donaldson had talked with Al on his way out. By the time Al finally got back to the room Sam had already nodded off back to sleep so Al settled into his usual chair to read the day's edition of the Post and wait from Sam to wake up again.

Before opening the paper Al sat and just looked at Sam for awhile. Even though he was sleeping, his face still showed the signs of the pain and discomfort he'd been feeling earlier. It seemed like weeks ago instead of just a couple of days ago that Sam had been healthy and arguing in front of the committee for the extended funding. Somehow Al couldn't even reconcile the man he saw in the bed in front of him with the same man so driven to prove his theory on time travel. He couldn't wait for the time when they could put this all behind them and their biggest worry would be funding again.

Al let out a sigh and opened the paper up to read and to wait.


	27. Chapter 27

Al didn't get much of a chance to read the paper before Dr. Gleason arrived in the room. He paused at Sam's bedside to briefly check him before gesturing for Al to join him outside the room.

When the door closed behind them Dr. Gleason started to speak. "I didn't want to take a chance of talking with you in the room and waking Sam. Why don't we go down to the lounge and have a cup of coffee."

"Yeah, sure," Al agreed. "He's doing ok, isn't he?"

"About as well as we can expect at this point," Dr. Gleason said leading the way to the lounge. The two men made small talk until they were both seated on opposite sides of one of the tables with cups of coffee in hand.

"Ok, spill it, Doc, how's Sam really doing?"

"The pneumonia is a bit of a setback but he's responding very well to the antibiotic and he is about where I'd expect him to be 2 days after major surgery," Dr. Gleason said before taking sip from his cup.

"Then you're sure it is pneumonia. Caruthers didn't seem so sure about that last night – said he had to wait for tests and it seemed he took his sweet time about getting the tests done." Al didn't make any attempt to hide displeasure with Dr. Caruthers."

"Quite sure, Admiral. All of his symptoms point to pneumonia and the chest x-ray confirmed it."

"What about the blood tests they did last night?" Al asked.

"Well, we won't have complete results back on those until tomorrow. It takes a bit of time to culture them. His white count is elevated which is indicative of an infection. Generally a blood culture in the case of pneumonia is used as an indicator of what exactly is causing the infection but generally even that's not necessary unless there's no response to a more broad spectrum antibiotic and something more specific is needed. Like I said, Sam's responding quite well to the antibiotic that Dr. Caruthers started him on last night and I don't anticipate any change in that so there wouldn't be a need to change it. It's temperature has come down considerably. Although he is still running a fever it's not as high as it had been last night and Sam's remained oriented as to where he is with no more episodes of delirium."

"Now, while we're on the subject of Sam's state of mind and Dr. Caruthers, he's indicated he had a bit of a…run-in with you last night regarding his treatment of Sam. Would you care to shed any light on this, Admiral?"

"I got here and he had Sam tied up like he was some kind of animal," Al began heatedly.

"Yes, Dr. Caruthers did mention that he'd had Sam put into soft restraints when he became combative and delirious. It's actually SOP in a case such as this."

"Let me ask you something, Doc, have you ever been tied up against you will? Tied up so tight you can't really move?" Al questioned.

"No, Admiral, I can't say I have. You're point is?"

Al took a swallow of coffee from the mug before loudly thumping it on the table and answering Dr. Gleason. "My point, Doc, is that I have been. I spent 5 years as a POW. I know what it's like to be tied up and to have your freedom stripped from you. It's not a real good feeling, Doc. It's even worse when you don't understand why it's being done to you. It can be downright terrifying and it can trigger memories of things you'd rather forget. That's what I saw when I walked into that room last night – Sam tied up like he was an animal and he didn't understand why and it was scaring the hell out of him. Caruthers didn't seem to understand that – didn't seem to understand that maybe, just maybe, all Sam needed was someone to calmly and quietly explain to him what was going on instead of tying him up that."

"I apologize, Admiral. You're right; someone should have tried to reason with Sam before resorting to the use of restraints. Dr. Caruthers is a good doctor but, between you and me, his bedside manner does leave a bit to be desired. I'll be sure nothing like this happens in the future," Gleason assured.

"It better not," Al flatly stated in a tone he reserved for new recruits.

Gleason was taken aback by Al's vehemence but quickly recovered. "I'm sure you'd probably like to know what the next steps are now in Sam's recovery."

Al nodded his agreement and gestured from Gleason to continue.

"Despite the fact that Sam does have pneumonia, the x-ray did show that his lung has inflated nearly completely with no air trapped in the chest wall. We'll keep doing a series of daily x-rays to make sure it continues that way and if I continue to see the same progress I'll clamp off the chest tube in about 4 days. If he still shows improvement after that, or at least doesn't backslide, I'll remove it within a day after that. At that point we'd transfer Sam from the step-down unit to the orthopedics floor and Dr. Childs would, most likely, start him on physical therapy. I'd actually like to start getting him out of bed tomorrow. The more he's moving around the less likely it is that the pneumonia will worsen or that it'll relapse. I also plan on switching him over from the PCA to oral pain relief tomorrow as well. He's been using the PCA less today than he was yesterday so that's indicative that the level of pain he's in is lessening so it would be a good time to switch him over. Once the chest tube has been removed and he's started therapy I'd say he'd probably be our guest here for about another week before he's ready for discharge. Does that about cover everything or is there anything I've missed?"

Al took a swallow from his coffee before responding, "He's still got the oxygen. How long is going to need that for?"

"I'd like him to use it for at least the remainder of today. The less work Sam has to do right now to breathe the better for him and the less taxing for his body. The pneumonia's still triggering quite a cough and also causing him to be a bit short of breath without the aid of the oxygen so I'd like to keep it there until he's past that. Is there anything else.

"What about his spleen. I'm guessing it must have been there for something so what effect is there going to be now that you've removed it?"

"The spleen plays a role in the immune system so Sam's going to find that he's much more prone now to catching just about anything. His body's not going to have the same line of defense to fight off colds and such like yours or mine does. To that end he's going to have to be vigilant about making sure he gets a flu and pneumonia vaccine each year. He's not going to be able to fight things like that off as easily as the majority of the population and it could end up resulting in another hospital visit for IV antibiotics. If he just takes a little caution to prevent getting sick he should never even notice it's gone.

"As far as the surgical site itself, it's looking good. I didn't use stitches to close up the incision. Instead I used surgi-strips – surgical strength tape – so that will eliminate the need for him to have stitches removed. They'll just eventually come off over the course of time. All the tests we've done indicate that he's not still bleeding internally so there's no bleeders we missed that we'd have to go back and take care of. Does that answer all your questions now?"

"Yeah, I think that about covers everything. Thanks for the coffee, Doc," Al said while rising from his seat. "I better get back there before he wakes up and thinks I've gone off to have fun or something without telling him first."

Dr. Gleason also got up and followed Al to the door. "Have you heard anymore about his mother," he asked as they walked through the door.

"I talked to his sister last night. Mrs. Beckett's doing pretty good considering. Looks like she'll probably be out of the hospital and home before Sam is. She also called just before you came in and Sam was able to talk with her for a bit. It's looking really good for her."

"Good, that's good to hear, Admiral. I'm sure that's set Sam's mind more at ease. Well, I better be on my way. I have several more patients to see. I'll try to pop in and check on Sam again before I go off shift."

"Thanks, Doc," Al answered going in the direction opposite Dr. Gleason and back to Sam's room.


	28. Chapter 28

Sam woke with a start and the first thing he was aware of was Al leaning over him. He reached up and grabbed Al's arm anxious to tell him what it was he'd seen in his dream. "Blue, Al, it was blue."

"What was blue, Sam?" Al asked clearly confused by Sam's non-sequiter.

"The car. The car that hit me was blue, wasn't it?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Yeah, Sam," Al answered him stepping back away from the bed and resuming his seat. It was a blue car. "You starting to remember the accident?"

Sam wiped a hand over his face and reached for the glass of water before answering. He waved off Al who seemed ready to get out of his chair and get the water for him. "I think I'm starting to remember bits and pieces of it. Maybe talking to the police is starting to jog my memory."

"What else do you remember, Sam? Anything could help get this guy. Neither the guy across the street or I got more than the first 2 digits of the license tags and the police haven't been able to track it down. Maybe you saw more of it."

Sam got a thoughtful, far away look in eyes before he answered. "It wasn't a guy, Al. I saw the driver, when I hit the windshield I saw the face, I think. It was a woman who was driving."

"Hey, that's good Sam. What'd she look like? Can you remember?" Al asked him leaning forward in his chair.

"I…I don't know. I didn't see her for more than a split second - and that's even if I'm really remembering and it just wasn't a dream." Sam was less than confident that he was actually remembering the accident although his impression of a blue car had evidently been right.

"Well, what do you think you saw?" Al prompted him.

"Like I said, it wasn't for more than a split second but it was a woman, maybe in her 40's with darkish hair…I think, I'm not sure, Al. If she's real at all it's not what she looks like that I'm really remembering but the way she looked?"

"What do you mean, the way she looked? Wouldn't that be what she looked like?" Al questioned confused by Sam's line of thought.

Sam reached for the glass of water again taking another sip from it before putting it down. He looked down at his lap and fiddled with the clip on his finger keeping track of his oxygen levels. When he finally looked up at Al he looked unsure of himself, "You'd think that if you hit a person you'd look shocked, right? Or scared or something like that, right? She didn't, Al. She looked…she looked…happy – like she meant to do it. I could have sworn she was laughing Al."

"Laughing? Are you trying to say whoever this was, was trying to run you over – on purpose? That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, Sam"

"I know it doesn't, Al. That's why I said I could just be imagining it because if I'm not…" Sam let his words hang and gave Al a meaningful look.

Al picked up on what Sam was saying and finished the sentence for him. "If you're not imagining this, Sam, then that means that someone tried to kill you – and would explain why the car kept going. We have to call the police and tell them this, Sam," he said rising from his seat and going over to the phone.

Sam put out a hand to stop Al from picking up the receiver. "What are we going to say, Al? Earlier I couldn't remember anything and now I had a dream about a blue car and the woman driving it? No one's going to believe that, Al, and you know it. Heck, I'm not even sure if it's something I saw or just my imagination. Don't waste their time. It's just a dream. Let's face it, it's not the first one I've had since the accident. It's probably all just my imagination."

Al tried to press Sam to let him call the police. "And what if it isn't just a dream, Sam? What if it's what you really saw? Someone could be trying to kill you. Are we supposed to just wait and see if she tries it again?"

"It has to have just been a dream, Al. C'mon, why would anyone want to kill me anyway? Now you, I can seem some jilted lover wanting to run you down. I can a lot of them trying to run you down," Sam joked trying to lighten the mood.

"Ha ha, aren't you just the laugh riot. Ok, Sam, I won't call the police but I'm not letting you out of my sight now either. If she really was trying to kill you she could come back."

"Be serious, Al, they're not going to let you stay here 24 hours a day," Sam logically pointed out to Al.

Al once more took his seat by the bed and tried to counter Sam's logic, "They let me stay last night."

"I also thought I was 8 years old and tied up in a barn ready to be eaten by a bear or something last night. I'm not delirious anymore. I'm not trying to rip out IV's or get out of bed so there's no reason for you to stay. Besides, if you don't start getting some real rest soon you're going to be sharing a room with me."

"There's a scary thought," Al interjected.

"Now who's the comedian? I'm gonna be fine by myself, Al. No one's going to kill me in my sleep. What have I done that someone would want to anyway? It was just my imagination and even if it wasn't, she won't be back."

"Yeah, and how do you know that?" Al questioned.

"I don't know how, I just do so let's just drop it and forget I ever said anything. Please?"

Al sighed not in favor of forgetting about what it was Sam saw but finally agreed anyway, "Fine, I'll drop it for now but if you get anymore flashes of memory – dream or not – I want to know about it."

"Ok, Al, you'll be the first to know." Before Sam could go any further he was interrupted by door opening and the arrival of his dinner which was unceremoniously placed on the bed tray before the delivery worker left without saying a word.

"Geez, glad I'm here or you'd never get that," Al said getting up to move the tray over the bed. It had been pushed beside the bed while Sam had been sleeping and just out of his reach. "So, let's see what gourmet treats you've got tonight," he said pulling the covers off with a flourish. "Hey, look at that, it's real food this time."

Sam picked up the fork and poked despondently at what appeared to be a pile of mashed potatoes before looking questioningly up at Al. "You call this stuff real. This must be my reward for not getting sick off the liquid stuff they gave me for lunch."

Sam put an experimental bite of the potatoes in his mouth. "So, how bad is it," Al asked him.

"It tastes like Katie's mashed potatoes," Sam told him making a face.

"Hey, I've had your sister's cooking and it's pretty darned good. I thought you liked it."

"I do – now. This tastes like the first time she tried to cook by herself. All that's missing is the charcoal chicken."

"Yeah, well, that's about all I see on the menu tonight so you better eat up. I'll talk to Lydia or the doc and see if I can bring you in something for tomorrow – but only if you eat what's there first."

"That's bribery, Al," Sam told him cutting off a piece of chicken and trying it.

"Maybe, but it looks like it's working. You're startin' to feel a little better, aren't you?"

Sam chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Yeah, I guess I am a little bit – definitely better than I was last night. As strong as that stuff is," he said pointing to the bag of antibiotics with the fork, "I better be feeling better or there's something really wrong."

Al didn't answer Sam, just sat watching him eat with a small smile on his face.

"What?" Sam finally asked. "Why are sitting there smiling at me?"

"Because, Sam, you've had me scared shitless the last two days. When that car hit you I was sure you were dead. Now you're sitting there and you're starting to get some color back into your face and bitching about the hospital food. You're really gonna be ok."

Sam put his fork down and looked over to Al. "Yeah, Al, I am going to be ok. Thanks for sticking by me the last couple of days."

"Not a problem, Kid. I know you'd do the same for me. I meant what I said last night, I'm gonna be with you for the long haul."

"You should head back to New Mexico – make sure everything's staying on schedule. We can't afford to lose any of the funding and if we fall behind you know that's what's gonna happen."

"Screw the funding, Sam," Al said heatedly. "You're what's important and I'm staying here until you're outta the hospital and ready to fly back with me."

"Al, we need that funding and we've got to stay on schedule. I'm a big boy, I'll be fine by myself but the project…" Sam was stopped from continuing the argument with Al when Lydia came into the room to see how he was doing with dinner.

"Look at that, they've got you up to solid food now and looks like it's setting ok with you," she told him with a smile sensing the tension in the room and hoping to break it.

"Yeah, I guess it's ok," Sam agreed.

"Hey, you're lucky; they gave you the chicken and mashed potatoes. You could have gotten the meatloaf…I think it's meatloaf anyway."

Sam and Al both winced imagining what the meatloaf must look and taste like. "Hey Sam, I bet that chicken's seeming gourmet right about now."

"You know, if you're really not in the mood for the chicken, I could see if we can switch it for the meatloaf," she teased.

"Uh, no, that's all right," Sam told her starting to eat again. "This is just fine."

"Good. I'll be back later to see how you're doing," she said and left the room.

Al waited until the door closed behind Lydia before speaking. "Sam, I'm not going back to New Mexico and leaving you here alone so let's just stop arguing about it ok. That project's not gonna go anywhere without you so let's make sure you're 100 before worrying about it."

"I'm too tired to argue," Sam sighed. "Honestly, I guess I don't want to be alone either."

"So it's settled. I'm staying and we're not arguing about this anymore," Al said settling back into his chair.

Sam finished eating his dinner and the empty tray was picked up by the same worker who had delivered it. Again, not a word was uttered.

"Guess she's not the real talkative type," Al observed.

"No, guess not," Sam agreed.

The two men spent the rest of the night talking amiably about their plans for the project. Lydia came in a few more times to run vitals checks on Sam and each time she happily reported that his fever was down and staying down. He was also staying awake for longer stretches of time. Finally, around quarter of nine Al noticed that Sam was starting to doze off and he decided it was time for him to leave.

He stood up and approached the bed and gently rested his hand on Sam's arm. "Hey Sam," he quietly said rousing the younger man. "I'm gonna head back to the hotel now and let you get some sleep. If you need anything during the night you have someone call me, ok, and if you want me to stay you just have to tell me."

"Go on back, Al. I'll be ok tonight," Sam sleepily told him.

"Ok, Kid. I'll see you tomorrow morning then. Have a good night."

"You too," Sam responded, his voice drifting off as he once more started to fall asleep.

Al gave Sam's arm another pat before turning and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair and leaving the room. He stopped by the nurse's station long enough to talk with Lydia and to make sure he'd be called if there was the slightest problem with Sam during the night. Then he left the hospital intent on getting something to eat and, hopefully, a full night's sleep. He also had to call Katie when he got back to the hotel and check to see how Thelma was doing. Talking to his mother seemed to have allayed some of Sam's fears but Al knew that would be one of the first things he'd ask about in the morning and he was hoping he'd be able to give him even more good news. Al quickly hailed a taxi and got in the back content with the knowledge that Sam was definitely on the mend.


	29. Chapter 29

Al was just getting out of the shower the next morning when the phone in his room rang. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried out of the bathroom to answer it.

"Calavicci"

"Hi, Al. It's Sam," he began but didn't get any further.

"Sam? What's wrong? What's happened?" Al anxiously questioned.

"Nothings wrong, Al" Sam answered with a chuckle. "Calm down before you have a stroke or something."

"If nothing's wrong Sam, why are you calling?" Al questioned.

"Geez, I didn't know I could only call you if something was wrong. Ok, if that's the case, there's something horribly wrong. Ok?"

"I knew it. I knew there had to be something wrong if you were calling me. Spill it, Sam. What happened? That nozzle Caruthers didn't try to tie you up again, did he?"

"Al, it's even worse than that," Sam deadpanned. "I'm absolutely bored to death here."

"What?" Al exclaimed. "You're bored? That's all that's wrong? Geez, Sam, what are you trying to do? Kill me?"

Sam tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress his laughter. "Hey, you're the one who said there had to be something wrong, Al. Not me. I was just doing what I was told."

"Oh, ha ha. Laugh it up. So, what's up, Kid?" Al asked him somewhat calmer.

"Well, I am bored, Al, and stuck here lying around and doing nothing so I was wondering if you could bring me those files in my carry on. If I'm going to be stuck here at least I can get some work down. There are some calculations there that I want to re-check"

"No way." Al flatly told him.

"What?" Sam asked surprised. "What do you mean, 'no way'?"

"Exactly what I said, Sam. No way. You're supposed to be resting and getting better, not working. I bring you those files and that's all you'll do – work. I know you. You'll be up at 3 in the morning checking and re-checking those calculations instead of getting rest."

"Al," Sam cajoled, "I'm not going to be up at 3 in the morning. I'm having a hard enough time staying awake for a couple of hours straight forget the whole night. Hell, you can bring them back to the hotel with you when you leave. I just need something to keep me occupied or I'm going to go crazy. Please, Al. You gotta help me out here." Sam was nearly pleading with Al.

Sam's pleading got the better of Al and he gave in. "Ok, Sam. I'll bring them with me but when I leave they come back with me and if I see you're doing too much, I'm going to take them away for good and you won't see them until you're discharged. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad, I understand."

"Cute Sam, real cute. How are you doing this morning?"

"Ok. Breakfast was actually edible, if you can believe that. Then again, I don't think there's really any way you can make a mess of oatmeal. Dr. Gleason was in a little while ago."

"That's kind of early," Al pointed out looking at the clock near the bed. "What'd he say?"

"Pretty much the same thing as yesterday. The pneumonia's responding to the antibiotic – my temperature's down to just about 100 now. He also took me off the oxygen and said that he wanted to get me off the PCA today, as well. I can't say I'm looking forward to that."

"He mentioned that to me last night – said you'd been using it less."

"I have so. It makes sense to stop it. Still, it is rather comforting having it there."

"If you think it's too soon, why don't you just tell Dr. Gleason, Sam?"

"No," Sam disagreed, "it'll be fine. What time do you think you'll be coming by?"

Al again looked over to the clock before answering, "Give me about another hour – hour and a half and I should be there, Sam."

"Ok, Al. I'll see you then," Sam said preparatory to hanging up.

"Sam," Al called out before Sam had a chance to hand up.

"Yeah, Al."

"Don't' be giving anyone a hard time until I get there," Al told him with a smile.

"Wouldn't think of it. See you in a little while."

"Yeah, I'll see you soon, Sam," Al assured before hanging up. He went back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day feeling just a bit happier than he had before the phone rang. Although Sam still sounded worn out, his voice was definitely stronger than it had been the other day. Just the fact that he was looking for work to do told Al he was definitely on the mend.

Al was willing to revise his earlier sentiments when he walked into Sam's room later in the morning. The bed was empty and Sam was sitting propped up in a chair next to it but he looked about as bad as he had at the scene of the accident. Diane was crouched down in front of him rubbing his shoulder and coaching him to breathe through pain.

"Hey, what's going on?" Al asked them.

Diane glanced over in her direction before rising. "We just got Sam up out of bed a little while ago," she explained, still rubbing Sam's shoulder. "It was pretty painful for him. How you doing?" she asked directing her attention once more to Sam.

Sam's face was a mask of pain and he was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He was so intent on trying not to cry out in pain that the best he could offer Diane for an answer was to shake his head negatively.

"Just give it a little longer, Sam. It's your first time up so that's gonna hurt. Just keep breathing through it and it'll start to ease up soon." Diane kept up the comforting rubbing on Sam's shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" Al asked coming over to stand next to the chair.

Again Sam shook his head unable to speak.

A few more minutes went by and it didn't look like the pain Sam was feeling was getting any better. Diane kept rubbing his shoulder and urging him to keep breathing through it.

Finally Sam reached the end of his endurance and forced out, "Please, I really need to lie down. I can't do this."

Diane glanced down at her watch before answering him. "You've only been up for about 10 minutes, Sam. Dr. Gleason wanted you to try sitting up out of bed for 30 minutes this morning. Let's see if you can hang on that long, ok?"

Sam mutely nodded his head to indicate his understanding.

After another 5 minutes went by with little to no change in Sam Al finally tried to intervene. "C'mon, Diane, he's not getting any better here. Can't we get him back in bed? I don't see what good this is doing."

"I know this doesn't look like it's accomplishing much, Admiral, but it's important for Sam to start moving around. If he's on his back for too long in bed it's going to start to cause pressure sores. It's also good for his lungs to start moving around. When you lie still you tend to breathe much more shallowly and it makes it that much easier to get pneumonia. Since Sam's already got a case of it going we want to make sure it doesn't get any worse." Once she'd explained to Al why they had to continue on to what seemed to him to be torture she turned her attention once again to Sam. "Think you can manage another 5 minutes at least, Sam?"

"I'll try," he gritted out.

At the end of the five minutes though he was still in pain it had lessened some and when Diane asked again if could make it another 5 minutes Sam agreed to try. Finally they reached the 30 minutes that Dr. Gleason wanted him up for. "You did good, Sam," Diane told him. "I'm just going to go get Lori to give me a hand getting you back into bed. Admiral, do you think you can help us out as well?" she asked Al.

"Yeah, sure, anything you need," he answered her. As Diane walked out of the room Al turned his attention back to Sam. "Hey, you made it, Sam. Just a little bit longer and you can get back to bed."

Again, Sam mutely nodded his agreement.

About a minute later Diane came back into the room with another nurse, Lori. Together the two of them, with Al's help, transferred Sam back from the chair to the bed.

Once Sam was settled back in bed with all of the tubes and wires back in place, Diane again left the room and returned a few moments later with a prepared syringe which she injected into the port on the IV.

"What's that for?" Al asked as he watched her.

"Morphine. Dr. Gleason knew getting Sam up would be pretty painful so he left orders for a boost of morphine if Sam needed it. I'd say he definitely did."

Diane reached down for Sam's wrist and checked his pulse before wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm. Sam lay silently while she ran through the check but by the time she was done getting his blood pressure the lines of pain on his face had started to smooth out. "That starting to take the edge off of it?" she asked him.

"Yeah, it's starting to ease off now," Sam told her before breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Good. That's good. I just need to get your temp and then I'll leave you to rest. That shot's probably going to make you feel a little drowsy." She gently nudged his face to the side and put the cone of the thermometer in his ear and waiting for the beep. "Your temp went up just a bit to just over 100," she told him. "That's not completely surprising since we had you up and moving but we'll keep and eye on it to make sure it doesn't keep going up. Now, is there anything else I can do for you to make you more comfortable?" she asked him.

"No, thank you," Sam replied. "I'll be ok now, thanks."

"Ok, then. If you need anything, you just ring," she told him before leaving the room.

Al waited for Diane to leave the room before he took his usual seat by Sam's bed. "You doing ok, now?" he asked him.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "The pain's not as bad now. The morphine's really dulled it down." He reached above to the trapeze bar across the top of the bed with one hand and used it to pull himself up into a more comfortable position while bracing his other arm around his mid-section.

"That's new," Al observed indicating the trapeze bar above the bed that hadn't been there the night before.

"Someone came in to install it right after I got off the phone with you this morning. Dr. Gleason and Dr. Childs both want me moving around more on my own. I need to try to relieve the pressure from being on my back constantly since I really can't turn over yet. It's not really easy to use since it puts pressure on my ribs and the incision but it's good to be able to move more on my own. Are those the files I asked for," he changed the subject noticing the pile of files Al had dropped on the table when he came in.

Al got up to retrieve the files and slid the table over the bed where Sam could reach it. "Yeah, but I figured you'd probably want to rest for a while right now."

Sam shook his head while using the controls for the bed to move himself into a more upright sitting position. "I'm tired of sleeping so much, Al. I want to do something to at least keep my mind busy."

"It's only been two days, Sam. Don't try to push yourself too much," Al advised.

"I'm not pushing myself, Al. What harm can there be going through a few folders and checking on some calculations. It's not like I'm going to try to get up and build the project with my bare hands."

"I wouldn't put it past you to try, Sam." Al dropped the pile of folders down on the table and reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a couple of pencils and a calculator. "Here you go, Kid. Try not to have too much fun with all this. While you get started on whatever it is you're going to do with these I'm gonna run downstairs and get myself some coffee."

Sam didn't look up from the stack of files he'd started to sort through when he responded to Al, "Get some coffee or are you gonna go outside for a cigar?"

"You know me too well, Sam," Al replied with a grin.

Before Al had left the room Sam noticed the calculator that Al had left behind and picked it up as if it was something alive that would bit him. "Hey, what am I supposed to do with this," he called after Al showing him the calculator.

"Well, Sam, most of mortals use that when we're doing calculations. I know you don't generally use calculators and prefer to do your figuring in your head but I figured with all the drugs you've been pumped with you might need a little bit of assistance."

"Oh," Sam replied putting the calculator back down on the table. "Uh, thanks," he said puzzled.

Al just chuckled at Sam and shook his head before leaving the room. He decided he might just forgo that cigar and just get a cup of coffee so he wouldn't miss any of the show. Sam seldom, if ever, resorted to using the electronic device that just about everyone else depended on for mathematical equations. Considering the fact that Sam could do complex equations in his head faster than they could be done on calculators – and consistently got the answers right – it was no wonder he didn't use them. Al had the sneaking suspicion that the combination of Sam's injuries, illness, and the medications he was on would leave him much less mentally sharp than he normally was and watching him deal with that could be quite entertaining.

It was 20 minutes later when Al finally returned to the room. He hadn't been able to pass up the allure of a cigar even to witness Sam's possible frustration. When he got back to the room he was slightly disappointed to see that he'd probably missed the show. The shot of morphine that Sam had received earlier had apparently finally sent him off to sleep. He was still sitting upright, though, and holding a pencil pressed to a blank notebook Al had included with the files. Al slipped the pencil from Sam's hand and moved the table with files out of the way. He couldn't help a quick glance down at what Sam had written on the notebook and unless smiley faces and doodles had newly been introduced as a part of quantum physics, Sam hadn't gotten anything accomplished before falling asleep.

Once the table was out of the way Al used the controls on the bed to lower the head of it so that Sam would be in a more comfortable sleeping position. Once Al was certain Sam was arranged comfortably in the bed to sleep, he again took up his customary seat and used the remote to turn on the TV, making sure the volume was turned down low. With the TV on providing background noise as well as Sam's soft snoring, Al reached for a file at the bottom of the pile and flipped it open and started to fill in the requisition forms for the additional equipment that they'd need at the project that they could now afford with the additional funding they'd secured and waited for Sam to awaken. 


	30. Chapter 30

Sam woke up just as the lunch carts were being brought up to the floor and immediately noticed the piece of folded notepaper tucked under his hand and the fact that Al was no longer in the room. Unfolding the paper he recognized the handwriting on it as Al's familiar scrawl. He'd gone down to the cafeteria to get something to eat for lunch and he'd be right back the note informed Sam.

Sam folded up the note after he'd read it and, realizing he couldn't reach the trash bucket, placed it on the cabinet by the bed. Just as he did the door opened to admit the cafeteria worker with his lunch. Unlike the others who had delivered Sam's meal, this woman, Maria, the tag on her uniform said, made it a point to move the bed tray over to Sam after she'd put food tray down on it. Sam had used the bed controls to raise himself to a seated position.

"I help you," she told him with heavily accented English.

"Thank you," Sam said using the trapeze to pull himself into a more comfortable position.

Maria made sure the cover was removed from the tray and put off to the side out of the way before she left the room.

"You eat, get better," she said with a smile before going out the door.

The door didn't fully close behind Maria before it opened again to admit Al who entered carrying his own lunch.

"What do you know," he said with some surprise, "someone actually put the tray where you could reach it and took the cover off. It must be a holiday or something."

Sam was looking dispiritedly at the food on the plate. "I'm not sure she did me any favors," he glumly told Al, poking at the sandwich.

Al walked over to the bed and looked at the grilled-cheese sandwich that Sam had been served. "That doesn't look half-bad, Sam. It's not like you can really do anything that's gonna mess up grilled-cheese."

Sam picked up half of the sandwich still looking at it suspiciously. "I hate grilled-cheese," he said before putting the half of sandwich back on the plate.

"So why'd you get it?" Al reasonably asked him. He'd sat down in his usual chair and pulled the lid off of the salad he'd gotten for lunch. As far as the cafeteria food went, it was about the safest thing he'd found so far. The can of soda he'd also got was put down on the floor next to him.

"I didn't have a choice."

"I thought they gave you menus or something so you could pick what you wanted?" Al asked him digging into his salad.

"If they do, I haven't seen one." Sam made another attempt to pick up the sandwich. This time he brought it all the way to his mouth before wrinkling his nose and putting it back in the plate. "I really hate this stuff."

"How can you hate grilled-cheese?" Al asked him. "Everyone likes grilled-cheese – it's about as basic as you can get."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not 'everyone'," Sam told him eyeing Al's salad hungrily. "I really was hungry, too." For a third time he picked up half of the sandwich. This time he succeeded in taking a very small bite of it which he thoroughly chewed and forced himself to swallow.

"Give it up, Sam," Al advised him. "You force yourself to eat that and you're only going to make yourself sick." Al put his salad down on the table near Sam's lunch before reaching over to ring the call bell. "I'm sure they can get you something different."

"I'll be fine with this, Al. I don't want to be a bother," Sam tried to assure Al.

Sam's assurance did nothing to sway Al from getting him something different for lunch. "You're not going to be fine with that. You're gonna force it down and it's gonna come right back up and I bet that'll be a lot more of a bother."

"You don't have to do that," Sam argued. "I can do it myself, Al. I'm a big boy, you know."

They were cut off from any more arguing when the door opened and Diane came in. "Is there something you needed, Sam?" she asked.

Before Sam got a chance to open his mouth to answer, Al beat him to it. "Can he get something else for lunch? Apparently grilled-cheese is on Sam's list of most hated foods."

"Sure, we can get you something else," she replied picking the plate up off of the tray. "They usually send up a few extra trays and you have no dietary restrictions so swapping this is no problem. I think I saw some turkey sandwiches. Would that be ok?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine," Sam quietly told her. "I don't mean to be a bother."

"Nonsense. You're not a bother at all. I'll be back in a minute," she said as she started to leave the room.

"Is there anyway Sam can get a choice in what he eats from now on?" Al asked before she left. "Is there a menu or something he can pick off of?"

"Sure, he should have gotten that yesterday already. I'll make sure a dietician brings them up."

Sam waited until the door closed behind Diane before speaking. "You didn't have to do that," he said in a low, angry voice reaching for the cup of juice that remained on his lunch tray.

"Do what?" Al had picked up his lunch and had sat down to start eating it again, confused at Sam's sudden anger.

"Treat me like a child, that's what."

"Treat you like a….I didn't do anything like that," Al sputtered surprised at Sam's accusation.

"Yes, you did. **You** decided I needed something different for lunch. **You** rang for the nurse. **You** told her what was wrong. **You** asked her for the menus. I'm surprised you didn't answer her when she asked me if I like turkey. I'm not a little boy, Al and I'm not incompetent. I can make decisions for myself." Sam's frustration and sudden anger combined to raise the volume of his voice and his words seemed trip over themselves he was talking so fast.

"If I hadn't done anything you'd still be sitting there trying to choke down something you didn't like. This is stupid, Sam. You're getting upset over nothing."

"So now you're saying I'm stupid?" Sam challenged.

"I didn't say that, Sam. You're twisting around what I said." Al was trying to remain calm in the face of Sam's sudden and unexplained anger. He knew that it was in response to frustration and Sam was lashing out and that he was the only person around that Sam could lash out at. Still, it was hard for Al not return Sam's anger with some of his own.

Sam didn't answer Al right away, he just glared at him. Diane walked back into the room at that moment with his lunch. She quickly sensed the tension between the two but chose not to interfere.

"Here you go," she said putting the plate in front of Sam. "This should suit you better than the other one did."

Sam broke away from glaring at Al to glance in Diane's direction. "Thank you," he quietly told her.

"No problem," she told him. "Anything else I can get you?"

"No," Sam said before giving Al a pointed look. "I think that's all," he said challenging Al to contradict him.

Al remained silent.

"Well, if you do need anything else, just ring the bell."

Neither man said anything after she left the room. They both turned toward their respective lunches and ate in silence.

"How's that?" Al asked Sam a few minutes later trying to break the tense silence that had descended between them

"It's fine," Sam quietly said as he continued to eat.

Al watched him slather mayo on the sandwich. He knew Sam liked a little extra mayo but figured as much as the kid was using the sandwich must have been a little on the dry side. He was just about to volunteer to see if he could find him some more then thought the better of it. The way Sam had reacted earlier he'd probably just see Al's offer as more interference.

The two finished eating in silence. Al was happy to see that this time Sam had eaten everything he'd been given. Apparently he hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was hungry.

After Sam's empty lunch tray had been picked up Al again got out the files with the requisition forms he'd been working on earlier. "Do you think you feel up to helping me fill some of these out?" he tentatively asked in an attempt to once more break the silence.

Sam had been staring off into space and hadn't seen Al get up to retrieve the files. "Huh?" he asked looking in Al's direction.

Al held up a sheaf for forms for Sam to see. "You think you're feeling up to filling out some of these requisitions. You know the government, you want a damned paperclip and there's 12 different forms that have to be filled out in triplicate. And we wonder why there's a deforestation problem. The government's going to destroy our environment."

Sam smiled slightly at Al's concern over the environment. No one was more passionate about it than Al was. "Yeah, I can fill some of them out," he quietly said holding his hand out.

Al wasn't sure if Sam was still angry with him or if he was embarrassed about his earlier anger. Whichever it was, Al decided not to try to find out for fear of setting Sam off again. "Here, start with these," he said handing over a fairly thick stack of papers. "Maybe you can better explain why we're gonna need enough electricity to light up half the State of New Mexico."

Sam took the stack of papers from Al and quickly leafed through them before setting to work on filling them out. Al watched him for a moment before starting in on the stack he'd kept for himself.

The two men worked in silence for the next couple of hours working their way through the stacks of requisition forms. Slowly the tenseness of the quiet had given way to a companionable silence. Without words being exchanged, Al knew that Sam had forgiven him for his perceived transgressions.


	31. Chapter 31

It was nearly 2:00 when Diane came in to check on Sam and to bring him a small cup with his meds.

"What's this for?" Sam asked looking at the contents of the cup. One of the pills he easily identified as an antibiotic. He'd been switched from the IV antibiotic to an oral version of it that morning. He had no idea what the other one was and pointed it out to Diane.

"It's Vicodin," she told him while pouring a glass of water from the pitcher.

"I'm really not in a lot of pain right now," Sam said looking at the pill skeptically. "I don't really think I need this."

"Well, you might not need it right now but Lydia's going to be getting you up out of bed again at in about an hour or so. You take that now and it'll cut down on a lot of the pain when you're going to be moving around."

"She's got a point, Sam," Al offered. From the sharp look Sam threw him he knew he'd said the wrong thing – again.

"If you don't want to take it, that's fine," Diane told him. "We're just hoping to make it easier for you later."

"No, I'll take it," Sam said. "I could do without a complete repeat of this morning." He put the pill in his mouth and swallowed it down with water from the cup that Diane handed him.

"I'm going to be heading off shift soon," Diane said. "If you don't need anything before then, I'll see you tomorrow."

After she'd left the room Sam shot Al another sharp look. "Don't say it," he told him before he could get a word out.

"Say what?" Al asked confused. Ruefully he realized he'd felt that way quite frequently this afternoon as Sam's mood swung back and forth from angry to complacent.

"Don't say that I should just do what I'm told and not question it. Just don't say it."

"Ok, ok. I wasn't going to," Al tried to reassure him.

"Maybe not but you were thinking it."

Al blew out a breath. He had a feeling that no matter what he said it would be wrong. Not wanting to anger Sam anymore, he tried for a quick change of subject. "You having any luck getting through that one?" he asked gesturing to the forms on the table in front of Sam.

Al's sudden change of topic momentarily flustered Sam and helped to defuse his anger – at least for the moment. "Uh…yeah…I'm still working at it."

"Well, keep plugging away at it. We might get the whole lot of these done by the time they spring you from here."

Wordlessly, Sam began the task of filling in the proper information again. 


	32. Chapter 32

Although the Vicodin didn't have the quite same affect as the morphine had, it did dull Sam's mental processes somewhat along with the pain which slowed his progress on the forms. He'd been working on the stack in front of him for a while when he got thirsty and reached for the glass of water on the table only to find it empty.

Looking around he noticed that a pitcher of water had been left on the cabinet next to the bed and turned and stretched to get it. It was a bit of a reach and he probably should have asked for help but he was determined to do something for himself.

He'd just managed to snag the handle of the pitcher and pull it toward him when Al glanced up and saw what he was doing. "Hey," he said getting out of the chair. "Let me get that for you."

"I can do it myself," Sam gritted out.

He would have been better off letting Al get the pitcher for him. Having to stretch to the side and back to reach it and its weight, even though slight, was putting pressure on both his broken ribs and the incision. He was just ready to claim success in doing something for himself when he misjudged the edge of the table and ended up spilling the entire content onto the bed and himself.

"Damnit," he exclaimed trying to push the wet blanket away from his body.

Al immediately sprang into action pulling the form laden table out of the way and pulling the saturated blankets away from Sam. Unfortunately the pitcher had been full and the water had already soaked through the blankets. He quickly scooped up the few pieces of ice still on the bed tossing them down into the wastebasket nearby.

"You're gonna need to get someone in here to get rid of these wet sheets," Al told him. He gave Sam a chance to ring for the nurse himself and when he didn't, reached to do it himself.

"So stupid," Sam whispered just barely loud enough for Al to hear.

Al didn't get a chance to question just what was so stupid before Lydia came into the room.

"Hi, Sam, what's up?" she cheerfully greeted him before noticing the state of the bed as well as Sam's morose expression. "Uh oh, looks like you had a bit of an accident."

Sam mutely nodded his agreement, his face coloring in embarrassment.

"The pitcher of water fell over," Al needlessly explained. "The sheets and blanket are pretty much soaked."

"I can see that. Looks like you wanted to make sure I started off the day with bang. Let's see about getting you dried up." Lydia gently slipped her hand under the hospital gown Sam had on checking to see if the dressing over the incision had gotten wet. She also checked the dressing on his leg as well. "You managed not get either of these dressings wet so we won't have to change them but the bedding and this gown we'll have to."

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

"Nothin' to be sorry for. We all have accidents from time to time. I tell you what; I was going to come in in a little bit to get you up and out of bed for a little while. How 'bout I get us some help and we kill two birds with one stone – we'll get you a dry a bed and get you up for awhile? Sound like a plan?" she brightly asked him.

"Yeah…I…I guess that'll be fine," Sam agreed.

"Great. Let me go get you something dry to put on and enlist some help and I'll be back in two shakes. Al, I'll expect you to give us a hand as well. We want to get Sam moved with as little discomfort as we can."

"Yeah, sure. I'll do what I can," Al distractedly agreed. His gaze hadn't left Sam, his concern evident.

"Sam?" Al quietly asked resting his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You ok?"

Sam stared up at Al before giving his head the tiniest of shakes and turning his face away from Al.

"Aw, Sam, please don't do this," Al begged. "It was just an accident."

The two men didn't get much further before Lydia came back in the room, her arms laden with sheets and a dry hospital gown and an orderly in tow. She dropped her armful on the table introducing the two men to the orderly. "This is Larry, he's gonna give us a hand getting you up. You ready to move, Sam?"

She didn't give Sam time to answer her question before she started readying everything to transfer him from the bed to the chair. Sam did as he was instructed during the whole process and whether it was just easier this time, the Vicodin was killing more of the pain, or he just didn't care at this point, the transfer was much less painful than it had been earlier in the morning.

Once all the tubes and wires had been pulled to where they needed to be and the foot of the chair had been raised to support Sam's broken leg Lydia tucked a spare sheet over the lower half of his body. "Let's get this wet thing off you, now," she said. "Can you lean forward just a bit so I can get the ties?"

Sam sucked in a breath when the movement of leaning forward even just a little bit sent a sharp stab of pain through his ribs that the Vicodin couldn't disguise.

"Easy," Lydia told him hearing his sharp breath. "Ok, you can lean back now."

Luckily, the hospital gown that Sam had on had a set of snaps over each shoulder which eliminated having to thread the IV through the sleeve. Lydia quickly unsnapped the three over Sam's left shoulder and made sure the sheet was pulled up to his waist before slipping the gown off of him.

Al, who had been standing against the bed watching, got his first good view of the damage done to Sam's torso by the car and sucked in a breath of his own. It seemed as if Sam's entire left side was covered in one huge purple/black bruise from his shoulder down to under the sheet. Just as quickly it was covered up as Lydia slipped the dry gown onto Sam. She snapped the sleeve over his left shoulder and tied the top tie at his neck. "We'll just get the other one's when it's time to move you again so you don't have to keep leaning forward. You doing ok?"

"Uh, yeah, it's not as bad as it was this morning – just kinda sore."

"Good but you let me know if it starts to be too much." Lydia started to strip the bed of the wet sheets balling them up and dropping them on the floor to take out with her when she was done. Al had moved his chair so that he was opposite Sam and had sat back down. Looking over her shoulder Lydia saw that Al was staring at Sam with a worried expression and that Sam had turned his face away from Al again and had his eyes shut. Sensing something was going on with the two men and that they might need some time alone to talk and sure that Sam was as comfortable as he could be, she picked up the pile of wet sheets and headed for the door.

"I'm just going to go put these in the laundry and then I'll be back. Al, you keep an eye on him and ring if he needs anything."

"Yeah, sure," Al said not taking his eyes off of Sam.

Sam heard Lydia leave the room and knew if he opened his eyes and looked in Al's direction, he'd still be watching him intently. He didn't think he was up to that just now. He knew that Al was worried about him and could even understand why. He just wasn't up to trying to reassure Al that everything was fine – not when he knew it wasn't.

It seemed as if everything had spiraled out of control since the accident with everyone around him making the decisions for him. It didn't seem to bother him at first. As much pain as he was in and as sick as he was he could have cared less what decisions were made on his behalf as long as everyone just let him be. He'd woken up this morning feeling better – more in control of himself. That didn't mean he was in control of what was going on around him. Someone else was still telling him when to eat, when to take medicine, when he could call his mother and sister, when he should get out of bed and when he could get back into bed. It didn't seem as if anyone really cared what it was that he wanted. Oh, everyone was asking him questions – Was he ok? Could they get him anything? Could they do anything for him? He was getting the distinct impression, though, that it didn't matter what his answers were. Someone else was going to make the decision for him.

Leaving home and starting college at such a young age had drilled into Sam an independence that he found difficult to let go of. He'd learned to depend on himself early and didn't always find it easy to let go of that freedom and let someone else be responsible. He'd been making his own decisions and choices about life for so long now it was an alien concept for him to have someone do it for him. Unfortunately, that's what he was forced to do now and try as he might to not let it bother him, it had quickly done just that.

The final straw had been Al deciding he needed a different lunch. It wasn't that he'd really wanted to keep the grilled-cheese since he honestly did hate it. It was just that it should have been his decision. It was a small thing but it was one of the few things he should have been able to control right now and Al had taken that away from him. He'd lashed out at him and decided that would be the last decision he'd let Al make for him. He might not be able to stop the hospital staff from making decisions he didn't agree with but he could stop Al.

He knew he was foolish to try to reach for the water pitcher himself. Its position and his lack of free-movement alone made it a foolhardy thing to do. For some reason, though, when Al offered to get it for him it grated on his nerves and strengthened his need to regain some of his independence. He'd nearly succeeded, too.

He'd almost expected Al to laugh at him or at least say those dreaded words, "I told you so" when the water spilled. Instead, he'd seen a look of concern and sympathy and it was too much for him. 

When he'd accused Al earlier of calling him stupid he knew he'd been twisting Al's words out of anger. He wasn't so sure about that now. It was stupid to try to do it on his own. It was stupid to think that if he just pretended everything was fine it would be. 

He didn't want to be an object of pity. He didn't want to have to depend on everyone around him for the most basic of things but it looked like he had no choice in the matter. At least for the duration he'd have to depend on Al and everyone else. Depend on them to do for him and depend on them to make his decisions for him. It didn't mean he had to like it.

All he really wanted was for everything to go back to normal. To go back to before the accident that put him in the hospital. To go back to before his mother had a heart attack and landed in another hospital. It was just too much for him to process and deal with at one time. He deiced to just let go and not try anymore – to just surrender to the chaos that his life had somehow become in such a short period – to almost just give up.

He wasn't aware of the tears leaking out of his tightly closed eyes until he felt Al put one of his hands on his shoulder in support and wipe the tears from his face with a tissue. He couldn't even seem to control his own emotions anymore. The realization that he'd been reduced to tears for the third time in three days deepened Sam's embarrassment and reinforced his forming opinion that at this point in time he wasn't qualified to take care of himself. He released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding in a sob. 


	33. Chapter 33

Al watched Sam and didn't know what to do to help his friend. There was something obviously bothering him but he couldn't figure out what it was. When Sam had called in the morning he'd seemed fine and had been joking. Now his mood had swung in the complete opposite direction and Al just couldn't figure out why. Since Sam's blow up at lunch he'd felt like he'd been walking on eggshells.

Spilling the pitcher of water seemed as if it was the straw that broke the camels back and Sam's will seemed to crumble like a house of cards. He'd been like a whipped puppy since and wouldn't even look at Al now. It almost seemed as if when the water drained out the pitcher Sam's will to fight had drained right along with it. Al had a feeling if he told Sam to do something right now, no matter what it was, he'd do it without argument. If they replayed the events of lunch over, he had a sneaking suspicion that same argument wouldn't happen and Sam would let him take control. It had irked him when Sam had jumped on him for what seemed to him to be nothing earlier. Now he was wishing Sam was showing that same fight again.

When he saw the tears leaking from Sam's tightly closed eyes, Al got up and grabbed some tissues. Initially he'd just meant to hand them to Sam but something compelled him to rest a hand on Sam's shoulder in an attempt at comfort and support and to use the tissues to wipe the tears from Sam's face.

He'd thought Sam had been pushed as far as he could and was surprised to see that his act of compassion pushed Sam even further as he released the breath he'd been holding in a sob.

It was instinct that prompted Al to lean down and pull Sam towards him in an embrace. The kid had tried to be so strong since the accident and finding out about his mother. Even the strongest person had a breaking point and Sam had just reached his. He neither returned nor fought the embrace – only buried his face in Al's shoulder. 

Lydia chose that moment to return to the room. As soon as Al caught sight of her he waved her off before she could approach them. The last thing Sam needed was to know he had an audience. He jerked his chin in the direction of the bed silently asking her to get it ready. As much of a workout as Sam was giving himself now, he was going to need to lie down soon.

"Is he ok?" she mouthed.

Al nodded his head to indicate that, physically, Sam was fine.

"I can't do it anymore," Sam choked out and Al quickly switched his attention back to him.

"What, Sam? What can't you do?" he asked in the same tone he'd used the other night trying to calm Sam down in his delirium.

"I hate this," Sam said ignoring Al's question. "I can't do anything for myself anymore. Everyone else tells me what to do – when to sleep, when to wake up, when to eat, when to get out of bed. I can't do anything by myself. I…I…I can't even go to the bathroom without help. I hate being helpless." All of Sam's frustration had been spent on his litany of the limitations that had been forced on him and now he limply leaned against Al's shoulder. "I can't even be with my mother," he whispered.

Al continued to hold Sam gingerly, careful of the myriad of bruises he'd seen earlier and noted that Sam seemed a bit too warm. He remembered holding Trudy the same way when she was upset and realized that he'd started to rock Sam gently back and forth just as he used to rock Trudy. "I know you're frustrated, Sam," he said as he started to rub up and down Sam's back in an attempt to comfort and calm him. "I know you hate being stuck in that bed and feeling helpless. I wish I could make it different for you and you could be with your Mom. I wish you didn't have to go through any of this but there's nothing either of us can do to change it. It's ok to let go for a while, Kid. It's ok to let others take care of you for a while. I know you hate that but it's only going to be for a little while. You've got to trust me, Sam. Just hang on for little while longer and this will all be over. Can you do that, Sam? Can you trust me and hang on a little longer?"

Sam was beyond the ability to talk but nodded against Al's shoulder. His arms finally moved up returning the embrace. Al held Sam a little longer until he felt his breathing start to slow down. He pulled back just far enough to be able to see Sam's face and handed him the tissues still in his hand. Sam scrubbed at his face with the offered tissues. "Sorry," he told Al, his eyes downcast.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam," Al reassured. "You've had a lot coming at you really fast and it just overwhelmed you for a little bit. I'm sorry I've tried to take over for you. Let's make a deal, you let us help you out until you're outta here and I'll make sure I don't treat you like a kid and make all your decisions for you. That a deal?"

"Yeah, ok" Sam said nodding. "Thanks, Al."

"No problem, Kid," Al said stepping back. Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me." He looked down at the damp spot on the shoulder of his shirt and smiling he added, "I just better make sure I stick to wearing cotton."

Sam first looked chagrined at Al's joke before joining in with a small smile of his own which quickly morphed into a grimace of pain.

"Sam? You ok?" Al asked, the smile quickly melting from his face to be replaced once more by a look of worry.

Sam didn't answer right away. He leaned his head hard against the back of the chair, his eyes closed and his face a mask of pain. He rubbed up and down his heavily braced leg. "Muscle cramp or something – really hurts," he finally forced out.

Lydia, who'd been standing to the side forgotten by the two men, took Sam's pain as her cue to step in.

"Sam," she said putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning over him to get his attention. "How 'bout we get you back in bed?" She didn't wait for answer before straightening up and heading for the door. I'm just gonna go get Larry or someone to help us. I'll be right back."

Wordlessly Al squeezed Sam's right shoulder in support. Sam reached up grabbing onto Al's hand as it rested on his shoulder. Al turned his hand making it easier for Sam to squeeze it and if the strength of Sam's grip was any indication of the amount of pain he was now in, Al figured it had to be pretty bad.

Lydia quickly returned and once again Larry was accompanying her. She again leaned over Sam calling his name to get his attention. "You need to breathe through it, Sam" she told him once he'd opened his eyes to look at her. "Just breathe through it and we'll have you comfortable again before you know it, ok? I want you to let us do all the work and you just concentrate on breathing."

Between Lydia, Larry, and Al they got Sam back into the freshly made bed as quickly as possible. The task was complicated when Sam seemed to black out in the middle of the process. By the time Sam was back in bed with all of the tubes and wires in place he was blinking his eyes open as if he'd just awakened from sleep. "Hey, you with us?" Lydia asked as she put the clip back on his index finger that was monitoring his oxygen saturation. "Sam? I need you to talk to me."

"Huh?" Sam looked around a little bewildered as if he didn't expect to find himself in bed.

"You with us again?" Lydia repeated.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm…I'm ok."

"Uh, huh," Lydia said not thoroughly convinced. "You blacked out on us for a minute so let's just make sure you're really ok." She grabbed the blood pressure cuff out of the basked and wrapped it around his upper arm and began to quickly, and efficiently run a vitals check.

"Is it still hurting a lot," she asked seeing Sam grimace again in pain.

Sam nodded his head in agreement. "It feels like the muscles in my leg are all cramping up."

"Ok, I'm gonna get you something for the pain," Lydia told him as she finished recording his vitals in the chart. "I'm also gonna get you something to bring your temp down since it's gone up again. Just hang tight and I'll be right back with it."

Someone's timing somewhere must have been pretty good since as soon as Lydia had walked out of the room the phone rang startling Sam. Al hurried around the bed to answer it.

"Hello" he gruffly said.

"Al? This is Katie. I was just calling to see if Sam was up to talking to Mom right now."

Al was just about to tell her that it wasn't a good time and that Sam would call them back later when he remembered the promise he's made to Sam a short while ago. "Hang on a second, Katie, I'll see if he's up to it."

In Al's opinion Sam didn't look like he was up to talking to anyone on the phone. The pain hadn't lessened any and now he was running an elevated temperature again. This morning there had seemed to be more color in Sam's face. Now it was once again chalk white causing the bruises and the dark circles under his eyes to stand out even more. He had to give Sam the benefit of making the decision for himself whether he should talk to his mother or not but that didn't mean he couldn't offer advice.

"It's Katie," he told Sam blocking the receiver on the phone. "She wants to know if you're up to talking to your mom. It's up to you, Sam, but maybe it would be a good idea to just call back later after you get something for the pain."

For just a second it looked as if Sam were going to argue with Al and insist on taking the call. In the end, though, he ended up agreeing. "Tell Katie I'll call back in a little bit…but I don't want her to upset Mom."

"Katie?" Al said getting back on the phone. "Right now's not the best time for Sam. He's waiting for the nurse to come back with his meds. How 'bout he calls you back in a little while."

"He's ok, isn't he?" she asked. The fact that she kept her voice steady when it was obvious his words concerned her clued Al in to the fact that she was probably in the room with Thelma.

"Oh, sure, he's just fine. Just no sense in the two of them getting interrupted when the nurse gets back. He'll call back in a half hour or so." Al had imbued his voice with as much cheerfulness as he possibly could without sounding overly cheerful. It was still enough to put Katie on guard.

"Ok, Al. Tell Sam to call back whenever he's feeling up to it and make sure you tell him that mom's doing great today. No sense in him worrying until he talks to her."

"I will and you tell you're mom the same thing."

"I will. Bye, Al."

"Bye, Katie."

As long as Al had known Sam, he knew what his first question would be and he answered it before Sam had a chance to ask. "You mom's fine. Katie say's she's doing great and she doesn't want you worrying until you talk to her – even though I know you're going to." 

"Here we go," Lydia said coming back into the room. She had a tray on it with a medicine cup, syringe and the refilled water pitcher. "This'll fix you right up and you'll be forgetting that pain in just a little bit." She swabbed the port in the IV and injected the painkiller into it. Once she'd injected the entire contents she recapped the syringe and put it in the "sharps" container on wall behind the bed. "I talked to Dr. Gleason outside. He's not too happy that your temp's gone up again so he's going to be in here in a little bit to check on you. In the meantime I want you to take these Tylenol and they should help to bring it down." She handed Sam the medicine cup with the two Tylenol in it as well as a glass of water.

Sam swallowed the Tylenol with just enough water to get them down and started to hand the water glass back.

Lydia pushed the water back to him. "No way, I want you to drink all of that. The more hydrated you are the better."

Again, for just a second Sam looked like he was going to protest before he gave in and took back the glass of water draining it all before handing it back. Lydia refilled it before putting it down on the table in Sam's reach before straightening the blankets over him. "Why don't you try to get some rest before Dr. Gleason gets here," she advised him before leaving.

Somewhat at a loss as to what more he could do, Al again resumed his seat. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he frantically tried to think of something to say to break the silence that had descended on the room with Lydia's departure. "That shot helping you out now?" he finally settled on.

Sam was still avoiding meeting Al's gaze so he'd missed him struggling to come up with words. "Yeah, the pain's starting to go away." Sam's voice was slightly slurred – a good indication that the shot was doing more than just killing the pain. He reached up to grab the trapeze to pull himself into a more comfortable position only to discover that Lydia had forgotten to unhook it and put it down where he could reach it.

Al saw Sam struggling to reach it and jumped up out of the chair to pull the trapeze down where he could reach it. "Here, let me get that for you." He watched as Sam gripped the bar with one hand and used the other to brace his ribs and, digging the heel of his good leg into the mattress, tried to pull himself up higher in the bed. He didn't have much luck since the painkiller had already made him groggy and uncoordinated and he didn't have the strength he needed using just one hand. He made another attempt and managed to inch himself up only slightly.

Al again fought the urge to reach over and help Sam and instead forced himself to ask first. "You don't look like you're having much luck. You want me to give you a hand."

Sam gratefully accepted Al's offer of assistance and this time when he tried to pull himself up Al slid his arms under his back helping him to slide up further. "Thanks," Sam offered once he was situated comfortable. He would have said more but a yawn prevented him from doing so.

"Don't mention it." Al slid the chair closer to the bed before sitting down again. "You looked pretty wiped, Sam. Why don't you close your eyes and rest for a while."

"Can't." Sam shook his head before reaching up to rub his eyes. He forced them to open wider trying to fight the grogginess from the shot. "I gotta call Mom back." His voice was even more slurred than it had been earlier.

Al had almost forgotten about the earlier conversation with Katie. From the look of things it didn't seem like Sam would be able to stay awake much longer and would most likely end up falling asleep while on the phone and that would just worry Thelma Beckett. "Maybe you should wait until you've gotten some rest. You talk to your Mom now and she's gonna think something's wrong"

Sam crinkled his brown in confusion. "Why?"

Al couldn't resist a little chuckle when he realized that Sam had absolutely no clue what he sounded like. "Because, right now you sound like your drunk off your ass. You better wait until you're not high on painkillers before you call."

Sam stared at Al as he processed what he'd been told. "Oh, maybe you're right. Mom wouldn't like it if I were drunk. I'm just gonna take a little nap now."

"You do that, Kid."

Sam turned his head in Al's direction and pushed a little deeper into the pillow and appeared to drift off almost instantly. Just when Al thought he'd gone to sleep he lifted his head from the pillow and looked directly at Al. "Don't let them tie me up," he said in a soft voice. The fearful look from two days previous was creeping back into his eyes.

Al reached over and patted his arm. "Don't worry, Sam. I'm right here and I'm not going to let anyone tie you up. Put your head down and go to sleep, now."

"K," Sam breathed out before again resting his head on the pillow. This time when his eyes closed he drifted off to a deep sleep.

Sure that Sam was really sleeping this time Al let out a breath and stood next to the bed. He reached out his hand and gently brushed it over Sam's forehead which was much warmer than it had been earlier. The fever was rising again and it didn't seem the Tylenol was doing anything to keep it in check. "Please don't do this again, Kid," he whispered. 


	34. Chapter 34

It was nearly an hour before Dr. Gleason made it to Sam's room. Sam was still sleeping though it was anything but a restful sleep. Vivid dreams seemed to be plaguing him and though he hadn't woken completely, Al had had to settle him down from restlessness several times. Al was just sitting back down after once more quieting Sam down when Dr. Gleason entered.

"Has he been sleeping long?" Dr. Gleason asked.

Al looked down to the watch on his wrist. It felt like he'd be getting up and down trying to soothe Sam for a few hours and was surprised to see it had only been just over an hour. "About an hour, if you can call it sleeping. He's pretty restless." As if on cue Sam started tossing his head against the pillow and mumbling something too softly for either Al or Dr. Gleason to hear. Al leaned over and rubbed his hand up and down Sam's arm. When simple touch didn't seem to work Al started to quietly speak to Sam. "It's ok, Sam. It's just a dream. It's ok." After several repetitions Sam again settled down.

Dr. Gleason waited until Al had settled Sam down before he spoke. "I hate to do this but I'm going to have to wake him up so I can examine him."

"Is that necessary," Al asked.

"I'm afraid so." Dr. Gleason was just getting ready to nudge Sam to wakefulness when Al stopped him.

"You better let me do it, then. As unsettled as he's been, it's better if it's a familiar face he wakes up to."

Al gently shook the arm his hand was still resting on. "Sam," he called out softly but firmly. "C'mon, Kid, you need to wake up for a little while." He shook Sam's arm again. Sam's only response was to moan slightly and turn his face deeper into the pillow.

"C'mon, I know you're in there." Al reached up and gently tapped at Sam's face. "You need to wake up now."

Slowly Sam blinked his eyes open. He reached up and rubbed the back of his hands over his eyes to wipe the sleep from them. "Al?" he asked.

"Sorry to wake you but the doctor needs to examine you. It's just for a little while then you can go back to sleep."

"Doctor?" Sam questioned again rubbing his eyes.

Al pointed in Dr. Gleason's direction and Sam looked over that way squinting at the doctor. "Dr. Gleason? You were here this morning already." His thinking was still muddled from a combination of having just woken up, the medication he'd been given as well as the fever he was running

"I know I was, Sam" Dr. Gleason responded. "You weren't running such a high fever then. I had to come back to see if we can figure out what's causing it."

"Oh," Sam replied darting a quick glance in Al's direction looking for assurance that what the doctor was saying was ok.

Al nodded at him slightly and tried not to let Sam see his worry. Sam's emotional responses had seemed to be all over the place since noon and it seemed that he'd now reverted back to the clinginess he'd exhibited the other day. Al could only hope that it was caused by the resurgence of the fever and wasn't a symptom of something worse.

As Dr. Gleason began to examine Sam the phone again started to ring. Al grabbed it before it could ring again. Earlier he'd pulled the phone around to the other side of the bed from where it had originally been placed. It seemed it was never in Sam's reach to answer it and he'd gotten tired of having to run to around the bed every time it rang.

"Hello," he gruffly answered it.

"Al, it's Katie."

Al winced when he heard Katie's voice on the other end. Yet again it had slipped his mind that she'd called earlier and he'd promised to have Sam call back. It was well past the ½ hour he'd told her.

"Katie, I'm sorry Sam hasn't called back yet." He picked up the phone and pulled it as close to the window as he could get. He didn't want to disturb Dr. Gleason and Sam but he also didn't want to hang up abruptly again. "Look, Honey, this isn't a good time for Sam. The doc's with him right now and I'm not sure he's going to be up to a phone call afterwards."

"What's going on, Al. I thought he was doing better?"

"Calm down, Katie. He started running a fever again a couple of hours ago and it's not going down. The doc's just making sure nothing's been missed. He's gonna be fine."

"Do they know why he's running a fever, Al?"

Al shrugged having no idea himself. "I'm sure it's still the pneumonia. They had him up out of bed earlier and it probably just tired him out. I won't really know anything until the doctor's done." Al considered telling Katie about Sam's emotional ups and downs but decided against it. If it was just caused by the fever there was no use giving her one more thing to worry about.

"How's your mom doing?" he asked to distract her from Sam's current situation.

"Mom's doing good. Sounds like she's doing better than Sam is. She's out walking with one of the nurse's right now that's why I called. I wanted to make sure Sam was ok – she's been worrying since earlier – sounds like she had good reason. I'm going to have to come up with a good reason for her why Sam hasn't called back."

"Why don't you tell her that Sam's just really tired right now and he's resting. There's no sense in worrying her and telling her he's running a fever again. As soon as he's up to it he'll call her."

"Yeah, that's what I'll have to do. Look, I hear them coming back so I better go or she's going to want to talk with you. No sense in both of us having to bend the truth. Call me later after you've talked to the doctor."

"I will. Bye, Katie."

"Thanks, Al. Bye."

Al hung up the phone and put it back in place. As he did Dr. Gleason was just finishing up with the examination and helping Sam to lie back down. "Both surgical sites look clean with no signs of infection," he said wrapping the stethoscope around his neck. "I'm still hearing a good deal of congestion in both lungs and the pneumonia was still very much visible in the chest x-rays we did this morning so I'd say we're looking at a pretty strong infection that's fighting back against the antibiotics we've been using. I'm going to switch you over to something stronger and see if that does the trick. In the meantime there are a few things you can do that are going to help as well." Even though Dr. Gleason was talking to Sam he kept splitting his attention between both Sam and Al "I want you to make sure you're breathing deeply. You're probably not going to want to because it's painful but it's important to get the infection out of your lungs. Don't hold back if you have to cough no matter how painful it is. That's going to get everything moving out of your lungs. I want you to make sure you're drinking as much as you can. The more hydrated you are, the better. I'm going to arrange for someone from Respiratory Therapy to come down and start working with you and get that congestion cleared up. I also want you on oxygen again. Your O2 sats are lower than I'd like them to be. Now, do either of you have any questions for me?"

"Yeah, how much longer do I need the chest tube?" Sam asked.

"I'm sure you're anxious to get that out but until we have a handle on this pneumonia I want to keep it in place. The last thing you need right now is for that lung to collapse again. Anything else?"

Sam shook his head morosely and Al seemed to bite back on the questions he had. With no question forthcoming, Dr. Gleason readied to leave. "I'm going to have Lydia come in and get you started on that antibiotic and the oxygen. Admiral, would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?"

Al silently thanked Dr. Gleason for giving him a chance to ask his questions but tried not to appear too eager in front of Sam. "Yeah, sure. I'd love a cup. Sam, you gonna be ok if I step out for a little bit?"

Sam eyed Al suspiciously before answering. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm going anywhere any time soon."

Al chose to ignore Sam's last statement knowing that it was born of frustration. "Hang in there, Kid. I'll be right back." He followed Dr. Gleason out of the room and waited while he wrote new orders into Sam's chart and asked Lydia to start Sam on the new anti-biotic right away. 

After Lydia had left to get the medication started Dr. Gleason turned his attention to Al. "You looked like you wanted to ask me something in there."

"Yeah but I didn't want to upset Sam. Look, Doc, is the pneumonia the only thing we're dealing with right now. Sam's been acting strange almost the whole day. It's like someone replaced him with Sybil or something."

Dr. Gleason smiled slightly at Al's description. "Yes, the nursing staff did indicate that Sam's had some mood swings today as well a few emotional outbursts. I'm sure you're concerned as to the reason why that's happening."

"You can say that again," Al snorted.

"It's not completely unexpected at this point for Sam to be experiencing changes in his mood. He's suffered both physical and emotional trauma over the last several days. Added to that he's been heavily medicated and is quite ill. It's really not surprising that his mood has been so changeable."

"So it has nothing to do with the knock on the head he got?"

"I highly doubt it." Dr. Gleason gestured that Al should follow him down the corridor as he continued to explain, "Sudden mood changes can be a sign of an underlying neurological injury but Sam's not displaying any of the other signs we'd be looking for. His pupil responses are normal, he's having no vision problems, he's easily roused from sleep and, at most, he's only complained of a slight headache the last two days."

"He blacked out earlier," Al hastened to point out.

"He was also in acute pain at the time, had been emotionally distraught a short time earlier and was running a fever over 102. Trust me, Admiral, if I thought in the slightest that there was an underlying neurological condition I'd get a neurologist down here for a consult immediately. We will continue to monitor Sam for any signs of a head injury that's been missed but I doubt anything like that is going to show up. As far as his emotional responses, a lot of that could be influenced by the meds he's on. Although it's one of the rarer side-effects, Vicodin can cause mood swings. Since the appearance of them has coincided with Sam being switched over to Vicodin today I'm willing to bet that that's what's causing it. Add in the emotional stress he's been under and now the fever that he's running and I'd say his emotional responses, though not what passes for normal for him generally, are about what could be expected."

The two men had reached the door to the staff lounge and both stopped outside of it. "So what do we about it?" Al asked.

"I'm afraid, Admiral, there isn't much we can do about it right now." Dr. Gleason pushed open the door to the lounge and gestured Al into the room before following. He poured two cups of coffee from the pot and handed one to Al. "Like I said, we'll continue to monitor him to make sure there's no other underlying cause that's being missed. I've also switched him back to morphine injections to counter some of the unpleasant side effects of the Vicodin. He'll only be getting is on an 'as needed' basis, though. We're not at a point right now where we can eliminate painkilling drugs. The more pain Sam's in, the longer it's going to take for him to heal fully. Now until we've dealt with the infection and get his temperature back down to an acceptable level there's just too many variables to pinpoint exactly what the cause of his mood swings is but at least by taking him off the Vicodin we've eliminated one possibility."

Al looked down into the cup of coffee as if it would give him the answers that he wanted that Dr. Gleason couldn't give him.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, Admiral, but there's no magic fix-all for this besides time. The best thing for Sam right now is to have someone he can depend on. Normally a patient's family would provide that support system but considering matters the way they are right now, you're his support system. From what I've seen and what the nursing staff has told me, it sounds like you're doing the best you can to offer Sam the emotional support he needs. All I can tell you is to continue doing what you've been doing. It will get better, Admiral. It's probably going to take a couple of days but I can assure you it will get better."

"I guess there's no other choice then," Al said looking back up at Dr. Gleason. "Thanks for the coffee, Doc. I better get back before Sam thinks I took off to parts unknown without telling him first."

Al headed for the door and Dr. Gleason watched him leave. "Admiral," he called after him. "As much as you're doing to support Sam, don't forget about yourself. You won't be doing him or yourself any good if you end up in a hospital bed yourself. You're only one man – you can't be with him 24/7."

Al paused in the doorway before turning to face Dr. Gleason. "I'm gonna do whatever it takes, Doc, to get Sam healthy and outta here and if it means I sit next to him 24 hours a day to fight off whatever demons are haunting him…well, that's what I'm gonna do. I owe that kid more than you'll ever know. He did it for me and I damned well can do it for him." Finished saying his peace, Al turned abruptly and strode up the corridor.

Dr. Gleason stood in the doorway and watched him walk away. "I'll make sure the night staff knows you'll be sticking around for a while," he quietly said, "and I hope you don't find yourself in the bed next to Sam." 


	35. Chapter 35

It wasn't very long after Al and Dr. Gleason had left before Lydia arrived in Sam's room carrying an oxygen mask and a bag of IV antibiotics. Sam watched her hang the bag of antibiotics and start the drip. He tried to make out the writing on the bag but was unable to from the angle he was at. "Is it cefepime or meropenem or something else?" he asked.

Lydia at first look surprised that Sam knew the drug names before remembering his background in medicine. "I almost forgot you had an MD. It's meropenem. How'd you guess?"

"If I were in Dr. Gleason's place looking at a hospital acquired pneumonia that's been resistant I'd try a fourth-generation cephalosporin too. What's the dosage on it?"

"He's got you on 500 mg every 8 hours." Lydia has finished establishing the drip and recording on the bag the time it had been started. She unsealed the plastic bag that the oxygen mask was in and reached for the tubing behind the bed to hook it up.

"Wouldn't it be easier, and faster, if it were administered IM instead of IV," he asked.

"Sure, if you don't mind getting stuck over and over with needles. If you want, I can put in your request."

"Uh no. On second thought the IV's fine." Sam watched her fiddle with the oxygen mask reaching to the wall behind the bed to set the flow. "I don't suppose you could just use a canula instead of the mask, could you?" Even though he knew that an oxygen mask was there to provide supplemental oxygen to him, for some reason it made Sam feel as if he were being smothered.

"Sorry," Lydia told him slipping the mask over his face. "Dr. Gleason wants you to use a mask right now. It's easier to keep the oxygen humidified this way. If your cough picks up and you've got to pull it off more than you have it on or if you feel the need to give a speech then we'll switch you to a canula."

She took another quick set of vitals before asking if there was anything else Sam needed.

"No," he answered, his voice muffled by the mask. Already he was starting to feel as if he were being smothered and kept reminding himself that the mask was providing pure oxygen – not taking it away.

Lydia was ready to leave when she turned back to Sam. "You mind if I ask you a question? It's a bit personal."

"No, I'll answer it if I can."

Lydia walked back over to stand near the bed. "How long's it been since you practiced medicine?"

"It's been…a while," Sam answered with a small smile. "Not since my residency. I try to stay current and keep up with medical journals." He felt it was best to skip explaining to her that, at present, he served the role of staff physician at the project as well as the Project Director. "Mind if I ask why you're curious?"

"I guess I've just never really met anyone who invested all the time and work into getting an MD and then decided not to practice. I was just wondering why you didn't pursue it. It's really none of my business, and I shouldn't have asked. Why don't you get some rest now."

"No, it's ok," Sam said reaching out a hand to snag Lydia's wrist. He pulled the mask off of his face so he could talk easier and studiously ignored the look that earned him. "I guess it just wasn't what I was meant to do. I'd always been interested in Physics but Mom really wanted me to pursue medicine. After my residency was over I realized I'd never be happy as a doctor so I went back to M.I.T. and got my doctorate in Physics."

"You've got your MD and a doctorate in Physics? I'm impressed."

"He's got seven doctorates," Al added walking into the room.

"Seven?" she asked in Al's direction before turning her attention back to Sam. "You've got seven doctorates?"

Sam mutely nodded in reply and started to color a bit in embarrassment.

"Seven doctorates and a Nobel prize," Al hastened to add.

Lydia looked between the two before her gaze settled on Sam. "You won the Nobel prize, too. Either you're full of surprises or the two of you are doing a good job pulling my leg. So, what was the Nobel for?"

Sam suddenly found himself growing even more embarrassed at the attention he was being given. Before he could answer Lydia's question Al quickly chimed in.

"It was three…was it three years ago, Sam?"

"Four," Sam quietly corrected.

"Right. Four years ago Sam won the Nobel prize for his work with neural holography."

"Neural holography? I know what holograms are but I don't think I'm familiar with neural holography."

Sam opened his mouth to offer what Lydia guessed would be a long and complicated explanation. She put out a hand to stop him. "I was just kidding about you givin' a speech." She softened her words with a smile and pulled the mask back over Sam's face. "You've had that off long enough. When you can get more than a sentence out without having to stop and catch your breath then you can explain it to me. I really would like to know what neural holography is." When Al opened his mouth to offer an explanation Lydia quickly cut him off. "I want to hear about it from the guy who won the Nobel." Again, she softened her words with a smile.

"You need to get some rest right now, Sam. You just ring if you need anything."

Al watched Lydia leave before he turned and smirked at Sam. "I think she's sweet on you and you definitely impressed her. You should tell her you played at Carnegie Hall. That'd really make an impression."

"Al," Sam chastised.

"What?" Al asked innocently. "I didn't see a ring and you're not going to be in here forever. What's wrong with…cultivating something for the future?"

Sam didn't say anything. He just tilted his head slightly to the side, narrowed his eyes in a glare and pressed his lips together. It was a look that the older man was quite familiar with. This time the effect was muted by the oxygen mask covering the lower half of Sam's face.

Seeing the look Al decided he'd teased Sam enough for now. "How you doing, Kid?" he asked, his tone turning serious.

Sam shrugged and wiped a hand over his eyes. "Honestly, not so great. It thought I was getting better this morning but I think this is the worst I've felt." He pulled the mask off his face again coughing slightly. "I hate this thing."

"Yeah, well you should keep it on. It's supposed to be helping you and I don't think that's gonna happen with it lying on your chest."

"I can't breathe with it on," Sam countered.

"What do you mean you can't breathe? There's oxygen in that thing. You should be able to breathe easier with it on than off."

Sam knew he was being irrational and that Al was right, the oxygen mask should help his breathing but that didn't mean it was going to change the way he felt. He was prevented from explaining to Al what he meant when the cough made resurgence. This time it was much harsher and much deeper than it had been. Sam did his best to try to lean forward and brace his ribs with his crossed arms while the cough continued unabated.

Al looked around for the square of folded towels Emily had given Sam the other night so that he'd have something to cough against but couldn't seem to locate it. He turned back to Sam just in time to see him start to gag and he made a quick grab for the emesis basin on the cabinet by the bed and got it under Sam's chin just in time as Sam started to vomit.

When Sam had brought up everything in his stomach he continued to intermittently cough and dry heave. "Oh, God," he gasped in between. "Please make it stop."

Al continued to hold the emesis basin in place just in case anything else came up. With his other hand he rubbed up and down Sam's back while talking soothingly to him. "Easy, Sam. C'mon try to ease off and catch your breath."

"I'll get a nurse," an unexpected female voice said.

Al turned to look over his shoulder to see that an unfamiliar woman had entered the room. "'Thanks," he gruffly told her dismissing her from his mind and turning back to Sam. The dry heaving and gagging had finally let up and Al felt safe in putting the emesis basin aside. He helped Sam to lie back against the pillows and tried to pull the oxygen mask back up but Sam resolutely pushed it away. "Sam, it'll help you," Al told him trying to put the mask in place again.

"No," Sam gasped out pushing it away again. I can't breathe with it.

"You're not breathing too well right now without it." Though the coughing and gagging had eased off Sam, was still having difficulty breathing and an alarm had started to go off on one of the machines as his oxygen saturation level fell below what was acceptable.

"Please, no," Sam gasped out, "it makes me feel like I'm being smothered."

"Ok, ok." Al finally gave in. "Just try to calm down. Someone should be in here any second."

As if conjured up by the magic of Al's words, the door opened to admit a nurse that neither of the two men was familiar with. "I hear someone needs some help in here," she said brightly resetting the monitor and turning off the alarm.

Al took a second look at her and had to bite back asking if she was old enough to work in the hospital. He wasn't even sure if she approached five feet. Short, strawberry blonde curls framed a decidedly youthful looking face. If it weren't for the fact that she had on white scrubs Al would have guessed her to be a candy-striper instead of a nurse.

"Uh, yeah," he answered unsure. "Sam had a coughing fit and started vomiting. He's in a lot of pain now and can't seem to catch his breath. Where's Lydia?"

"She's in with another patient right now. My name's Margie and don't worry, sir, I'm quite old enough to do this job." She laughed a little at the look of surprise on Al's face. "You don't want to know how many people ask me that."

She brushed past Al reaching down for Sam's wrist and checking his pulse. "Not feeling too good, are you?" She asked Sam. She started to pull the oxygen mask over his face and this time he didn't protest but there was an unmistakable look of fear in his eyes prompting Al to intervene.

"He said the mask makes him feel like he's being smothered."

"That true," she asked Sam.

Wordlessly he nodded.

"Did you tell Lydia that earlier?"

Sam shook his head no. "I didn't want to be a bother," he explained. He had to stop and pull in a breath every couple of words.

"It's not being a bother if you tell us you're uncomfortable. We can switch to a canula so you're more comfortable. Right now, I'd like you try the mask again." She checked the monitor above the bed recording Sam's oxygen saturation which was fluctuating between 94 and 95. "You're O2 sat is a little lower than we'd like right now so if you can keep it on just for a little while that'll be great, ok?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed allowing her to pull the mask up over his face again.

"Great. Just try to take slow, deep breaths," she encouraged.

"How's he doing?" Lydia asked coming into the room.

"He had a pretty bad coughing fit and vomited. He seems to be a good deal of pain." Margie told her. "His O2 sats were a little low when I got in but it looks like theyr starting to come up since he put the mask back on. He said it's giving him a smothering feeling and it's hard to keep on so I was going to switch him out to a canula as soon as I finished checking his vitals."

"If you want to grab the canula I'll finish up in here," Lydia said.

"Sure thing. You hang tight, Sam, and I'll be right back and you can ditch that mask."

"Thanks," Sam said as she walked out of the room.

"If you keep getting me in here, people are gonna start talking, you know," Lydia joked with Sam. She ran a check on his vitals in her usual quick and efficient fashion. "Still going up," she remarked after taking his temperature.

"How high is it?" Al asked.

"Right now it's 102.7. It's gone up two points since just a little while ago. It's gonna take a little bit for that to kick in," she said pointing to the IV. "I'm not even going to ask how you're feeling."

Margie re-entered the room with the nasal canula and several slips of paper. She handed the canula to Lydia and while she switched the mask over to it Margie handed the papers to Al and explained what they were. "The woman who'd come in here when Sam was having trouble was one of the dieticians. She was dropping off menus for the next two days. Maybe you can give Sam a hand filling these out. They'll pick them up with then drop off his dinner tonight."

"Thank you," Al said giving the papers a cursory glance. I'll make sure he gets these done in time."

Al turned his attention back to Sam and Lydia just as she was finishing changing the mask for the canula. "There, that should make you more comfortable. How's the pain right now?"

Sam paused to think before he answered her. "It's still hurting a lot but it is starting to get a little better."

"Good, why don't you try to rest for a while. You're not due for any pain meds for a bit but if it gets any worse I want you to let me know, ok?"

"Yeah, I will"

Lydia grabbed the emesis basin from where Al had left it and disappeared into the bathroom.

"I'll see you later, Sam," Margie said before leaving the room.

Al waited until Lydia had returned the emesis basing to the cabinet by the bed andleft the room before he handed the slips of paper over to Sam. "Here, maybe these will help you take your mind off of it."

"What are they for," Sam asked curiously.

"They're your menus for the next couple of days. You fill them out and they'll get picked up when your dinner's delivered."

"Oh," Sam said as tossed them on table.

"Don't you want to fill them out?"

"Not right now, Al. Maybe in a little while when the pain eases up." Sam grimaced in pain again and tried to shift to make himself more comfortable. Unfortunately the pain seemed to follow him.

"Ok, why don't you take Lydia's advice and try to rest then."

Sam wordlessly agreed with Al and did the best he could to get some rest. Unfortunately, even though the pain had eased somewhat it was bad enough to stop him from any significant rest. Finally, after sometime had passed, Lydia reappeared in the room with a capped syringe. "Just checking to see how you're doing pain wise."

Sam shifted uncomfortably again as he answered, "it's not really getting any better."

"I kind of figured. She uncapped the syringe and injected its contents through the port in the IV. That ought to fix you up pretty quickly."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Let me know if you need anything else."

Lydia hadn't even left the room before Sam started to feel the effects of the morphine injection which Al immediately picked up on. "Starting to feel better?"

"Yeah, it's finally starting to ease up now." Sam reached out to pick up the menus and flipped through them before reaching for the pencil on the table and started to fill them out. He hadn't gotten very far before he started to look confused.

"You need some help with those?" Al asked.

"Huh? Yeah. That shot's really starting to work. I can't seem to make sense out of these." Sam quickly relinquished the menus over to Al who started to read aloud the choices on them. Apparently options were the last thing Sam could handle at the moment as the morphine took greater effect. Finally Al didn't even bother asking Sam what his preference for meals was and made the selections himself based on what he knew Sam did and didn't like to eat. Although he kept telling Sam what he was selecting to give him the opportunity to refuse, he quickly realized that if he offered Sam roasted elephant he probably would have agreed.

"Sam," he finally said.

"Yeah?"

"Go to sleep."

Sam's only answer was to cough softly before closing his eyes and doing as he'd been told.

Al finished filling out the menus and put them back on the bed table and picked up the pile of file folders still on it. It was nearly dinner time and he had a feeling if he didn't get them out of the way whoever brought in Sam's dinner would probably just drop it right on them. He doubted Sam would be up to eating dinner when it finally did come.

Finished putting the files off to the side Al wandered over to stand by the bed and reached out a hand to brush the hair back from Sam's forehead. Despite the fact that a stronger antibiotic had been started and the Tylenol Sam had taken earlier, he still felt just as warm to Al's touch. On the plus side he didn't feel any warmer.

Deciding that Sam would most likely be asleep for a while Al tore off a sheet of blank paper from the notebook Sam had been using earlier and wrote him a quick note saying that he'd gone outside for a little while to get some air (though he knew Sam would correctly guess he'd gone out for a cigar) and that he'd be back shortly. He folded the note in half and tucked it under Sam's lax hand. He didn't think Sam would wake up before he got back but he felt better knowing that he'd let the kid know where he'd be. While he was out of the room he figured he'd give Katie a call and update her and grab something to read from the hospital gift shop. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night and like he'd told Dr. Gleason, he wasn't going to leave Sam as long he needed him to stay. He didn't, however, want to spend the night filling out forms and doing paperwork either.

With one more look at Sam to make sure he was deeply asleep Al quietly left the room. Something was telling him that this was the calm before the storm and Sam probably wouldn't be as restful the rest of the night. 


	36. Chapter 36

When Al got back the room Sam was still asleep and seemed likely to stay that way for a while. His dinner had been brought up while Al was gone and had been left, still covered, on the table. Not seeing the menus Al took a guess that they'd been picked up but peeked under the tray to be sure. He opened the cover on the tray to see what had been brought up for Sam and wrinkled his nose at what he thought must have been meatloaf. "Be lucky you're sleeping through this, Kid" he quietly told the sleeping man.

He put the cover back on the tray and slid the table off to the side so that Sam wouldn't be disturbed when it was picked up and settled down to read the copy of "Newsweek" that he'd picked up downstairs. He may have had the magazine opened but he wasn't reading it.

He'd taken the opportunity to call Katie back while he'd been out of the room and had explained to her what was going on with Sam. He'd been lucky and caught her while Thelma was out on another walk but just as he was getting ready to hang up she'd come back to the room and correctly guessed that Katie was talking with Al and demanded to speak with him as well.

She may have just had a coronary and had a pacemaker put in but that didn't mean that Thelma Beckett's BS meter had been damaged in the least. Al had tried, at first, to assure her that Sam was recovering well and that it was just tiredness that prevented him from speaking with his mother. Thelma quickly saw through him and demanded to know exactly what her son's condition was. Al hadn't been able to lie to her and had told her, as gently as she could, of Sam's bout with pneumonia. To her credit, she took the information calmly though she did keep expressing a desire to be there with her son. In lieu of being able to fly out to sit by Sam's bedside she extracted a promise from Al that he'd keep on looking out for Sam for her which he readily agreed to.

He was amazed that she still trusted him to lookout for her son's well-being. There was no denying the fact that he'd dropped the ball on that initial promise he'd made while he stood and watched the car hit Sam. If he'd just had a couple of seconds more he was certain he could have reached him to get him out of the way or, at the very least, Sam would have had the time necessary to respond to his warning shout. Al shook his head and forced himself back to the preset. There wasn't anything that could done to undo what had happened 4 days ago but he could make damned sure he did everything he could from this point on.

Resolutely he forced himself to open the magazine that he'd closed and read its contents.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when Sam started to stir but he guessed it was on the order of an hour and half. He quickly jumped out of the chair and over to Sam's side when another coughing fit brought him abruptly awake.

He supported Sam with one arm across his chest while he rubbed up and down his back with the other hand. Thankfully the cough didn't go on as long or was nearly as bad as it had been earlier. Still, it was a rude awakening.

Sam was just lying back against the pillow when there was a knock at the door. The two men exchanged puzzled looks and Al went over to see who was on the other side and had knocked before coming in. He was more than surprised when he saw Senator Weitzman when he pulled the door open.

"Admiral," the Senator greeted. "I just wanted to drop by and see how Dr. Beckett was faring. I trust this isn't a bad time for him."

Al's first inclination was to tell Weitzman that yes, it was a bad time to be visiting Sam. He knew the last thing that Sam needed was to have any more reminders of how tenuous the committee's funding of the project was. He bit back on the inclination but only because of the agreement he'd made with Sam earlier not to make all his decisions for him. He waved the Senator into the room trusting that Sam would let them know if the visit was too much – and if he didn't and Al thought it was getting to be too much then and only then would he ask the Senator to leave.

"Dr. Beckett, I trust that you're recovering from your unfortunate accident." Weitzman dropped his stovepipe hat on the foot of the bed before approaching the head of it. No one could understand the man's fixation with Lincoln but given the stovepipe hat he was always inclined to wear, as well as the black suits, it was easy to see that the former President had great influence on the Senator's wardrobe choices.

Sam attempted to sit up straighter in bed as the Senator approached. "I'm doing well, Senator. I should be out of here and back to the project very soon."

"Balderdash, man," Weitzman exclaimed. "The only time I've seen someone look worse than you do right now it was my great-aunt Rose after she'd expired. Allay your fears, Dr. Beckett, my sole purpose in visiting you tonight was to see how you were doing and to wish you well. I had and still have no intention to bully you about progress on your project."

It was a tossup who was more surprised at Weitzman's statement. Sam managed to regain his composure more quickly. "Thank you, Senator".

Weitzman looked around the hospital room and, judging by the look on his face, seemed to find it lacking somehow. "I trust all of your needs are being met and you're not wanting for anything?"

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Al, unsure just what Weitzman's intentions were. "Yes, Sir," he answered somewhat warily. "I'm being well taken care of."

"Good, good. Then I won't be keeping you from your rest any longer." Weitzman scooped the stovepipe hat up off the bed in preparation to leaving. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Dr. Beckett. If you do find yourself wanting for anything please do contact my office."

He was out the door before either Sam or Al could form a reply.

"What was that all about?" Al wondered aloud after the door had closed.

"You got me," Sam said before muffling a cough. "It was a bit weird, though" he added once the cough was under control. "Maybe he did just want to see if I was ok."

"Maybe," Al replied. "I just can't seem to trust that guy. You're probably right, though. He probably just wanted to make sure you were ok. After all, the government has invested a lot of money in you. They don't want you keeling over dead before they get any results."

"Anyone ever tell you how cynical you can be?" Sam asked.

Al had just opened his mouth to respond when another soft knock came at the door. Al started to move toward the door, talking to Sam over his shoulder. "That's probably Weitzman coming back."

Before Al got to the door it opened admitting a man neither was familiar with.

"Can I help you?" Al asked a bit warily. He still wasn't completely convinced that Sam had simply dreamt about someone intentionally hitting him with the car and was on his guard when a stranger came into the room.

"Hi, I'm Rob Walsh," the man said putting out a hand to Al. "I'm a respiratory therapist. I've been asked to work with Mr. Beckett."

"Oh sure," Al said waving the man in. "Do you need me to leave?"

"Are you family?" Rob asked.

"No, just a good friend but the closest he's got to family right now."

"I don't see any need in you leaving, then," Rob answered, "Unless Mr. Beckett would feel better if you did."

Tall and sandy-haired, Al would have pegged Rob as working in physical therapy instead of respiratory therapy. He approached the bed putting out a hand to Sam.

"Hi, Mr. Beckett. My name's Rob and I'm going to be working with you on some RT."

"Hi," Sam responded. "It's nice to meet you. You can call me Sam."

"Great, Sam" Rob continued. He placed the object he'd been carrying on the table. "I told your friend here it would be fine for him to stay unless you'd rather he didn't."

"No, it's fine if Al stays."

"Good, good. He can give us a hand with some of the stuff I'm going to want you to do. Don't worry, it's pretty simple," he added seeing the puzzled look on Al. "I didn't catch your name when I came in."

"Oh, I'm Al," Al said putting out his hand to Rob.

Rob turned his attention back to Sam pulling a stethoscope out of his pocket. "What we're going to be doing is pretty simple," he explained to the two. "I just want to give a quick listen to your lungs before we get started."

He helped Sam to sit forward and pressed the stethoscope to his back. He moved it around several times and asked Sam to cough a few times. Finally he was satisfied and helped Sam back against the pillows. He leaned over to check the oxygen flow and noted down what Sam's o2 sats were.

"Ok, you've got a pretty good deal of congestion and that's what's making it so hard for you to breathe. We need to get that moving and out of your lungs. Ordinarily we'd start chest physiotherapy but the broken ribs aren't going to make that possible. We're just going to use incentive spirometry right now. Are either of you familiar with that?"

Although Al shook his head to indicate that he wasn't, Sam nodded that he did know what it was.

"Good. Have you done it before?" Rob asked him while pulling the plastic device he'd brought in with him out of its sealed bag.

"No," Sam explained. "I've never had to do it but I am a doctor so I'm pretty familiar with it."

"Oh, I didn't know you were a doctor," Rob said.

"Well, I'm not practicing," Sam hastened to add.

"Since you know what incentive spirometry is I'll skip the long explanation and get right to what we're going to do." Rob was fiddling with a gauge on the outside of the spirometer.

"Uh, I'm still not clear on what it is," Al reminded them.

Rob looked up at him smiling slightly. "Sorry. One of the best ways to avoid pneumonia or help to counter it is deep breathing – something Sam's probably not doing a lot of because of his broken ribs and his incision. What we're going to do is use this device; it's called an incentive spirometer, as an aid to make sure he's breathing deeply."

The incentive spirometer looked like a large, enclosed plastic tube with a blue ball inside of it. There was a flexible piece of tubing coming out the end of it with a mouthpiece. It was marked with numbers up the side. A gauge on the outside could be moved up and down and set at any of the markings.

"What Sam's going to do is put the mouthpiece in his mouth and exhale into it. Then he's going to inhale as slowly and deeply as he possibly can and that's going to make the ball inside rise. His goal is to get it up as high as the gauge has been set." He handed the spirometer to Sam asking, "ready to give this a try?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam said putting the mouthpiece into his mouth.

"Ok, now just exhale normally. Good. Now inhale slowly and deeply. As deep as you can."

Sam proceeded to inhale as deeply as he could. The ball made a rattling sound as it started to rise. Before it reached the point where the gauge was set Sam winced and let the breath go pulling the tube from his mouth.

"I can't," he said as he grimaced and rubbed his side.

"That's ok," Rob told him. It's probably going to take a little bit for you to get where we need you to be. Try it again."

Sam again put the mouthpiece in his mouth and repeated the procedure. The ball rose only as far as it had the first time before Sam again blew out the breath.

"Ok, take a little break and breathe normally" Rob told him. "I want you to try to do five breaths an hour. Ready to try again?"

Sam nodded and without further prompting put the tubing back into his mouth and again tried to raise the ball to the level of the gauge. This time he wasn't able to get it as far up as he had the two previous times. Rob encouraged him to do it two more times, none of which went higher than the third try, before taking the spirometer from him and putting it on the table.

"You did good for the first time, Sam. The more you do it the easier it's going to get. When you're done with the five breaths I want you to take a deep breath and cough 2 or 3 times. Why don't you do that now?"

"Hasn't he been coughing enough without forcing it?" Al asked.

"I know it's pretty painful right now to cough but as much discomfort as there is, it's really helping. You ready, Sam?"

"Yeah. Uh, where are those towels, Al?"

"Hang on a sec." Al grabbed the taped up towels off of the windowsill where he'd finally found them and handed them over to Sam who held them against his side while he took the deep breath and coughed.

"Ok, Sam, you've done good," Rob told him. "The towels are a great idea since that will help brace both your ribs and the incision. Why don't you get some rest now but I want you to use the spirometer about once an hour when you're awake. Al, you can help him out with it by reminding him." Rob helped Sam to lie back against pillows. "I'll be back tomorrow to see how you're doing. It was good to meet you."

"Thanks," Sam said before Rob walked out of the room.

"You doing ok, Sam?" Al asked when they were again alone.

Sam reached for the bed controls putting the head of the bed down somewhat before answering. "Yeah, I'm ok. It doesn't feel so great to cough but I'm getting used to it." He looked across to the clock on the opposite side of the wall. "Almost 8:00. I guess I slept through dinner."

"I'd consider myself lucky if I were you. There's a deli across the street. I checked and there's no problem if you eat outside food. How 'bout I go over there and get you something."

Sam shifted in the bed trying to get comfortable. "No, that's all right, Al. You don't need to go out for me. I'm not really that hungry, anyway?"

"It's no problem, Sam. Besides, I need to get myself some dinner and I could pass on the cafeteria tonight. How 'bout if I get you some soup or something?"

"Yeah, I guess that'd be ok," Sam gave in.

Al grabbed his coat in preparation for leaving.

"Is there a remote for the TV?" Sam asked him before he left.

Al picked up the remote from off of the bedside table and handed it to Sam. "I'll be back as quick as I can. You want anything else besides some soup?"

"No, soup is fine," Sam replied turning on the TV.

"Ok, I'll be right back then."

Sam watched Al walk out the door before he turned his attention to the TV. He started flicking through the channels but nothing seemed to catch his attention. He finally settled on an all news station and put the remote down. He did his best to try to follow along with the news but it seemed to take a monumental amount of effort. He knew it was a combination of the fever he was running as well as the medications that he was on that was making it hard to concentrate but it still frustrated him. It seemed as if someone had turned up the speed of the world a notch but turned down his ability to process by that same notch. After watching the local weather report but still having no clue if it were hot or cold out he came to the conclusion that trying to fully comprehend anything on the TV was going to be a failing prospect. In frustration he grabbed up the remote again and turned the TV off before throwing it down onto the mattress.

Sam let out a sigh pushing his head further backing into the pillow and rubbed his eyes that were feeling heavy again. It seemed all he'd been doing for the last several days was sleeping but it never seemed to be enough. He didn't seem able to go for much longer than an hour or two awake before he'd have to take a nap again. He forced his eyes open wide determined to not fall asleep again – at least not until after Al had gotten back. He grabbed up the remote again and switched the TV back on and forced himself to concentrate on the news in an effort to stay awake. 


	37. Chapter 37

When Al got back to Sam's room from the deli he found Sam staring at the TV. He walked around the bed to hang his coat over the back of the chair, dropping the bag from the deli on the table. Sam didn't seem to notice that he'd arrived back in the room and kept staring intently at the TV. It surprised Al that Sam hadn't reacted to his return and took a good look at him and found that although his eyes were open and fixed on the TV, Sam was more asleep than awake.

"Sam," Al quietly called nudging Sam's shoulder and gently pulling the remote from his hand. He used the remote to turn the TV off and it was only then that Sam became aware of Al's presence.

"Al? What are you doing?" Sam asked blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes.

"I was just about to ask you that. Looks to me like you were asleep with your eyes open." Al put the remote back on the table near the side of the bed before pulling the tray table over Sam's lap. He proceeded to open the bag and pull out the contents. He set aside the sandwich he'd gotten for himself and put a Styrofoam bowl of soup down in front of Sam with a spoon.

"You got lucky. They had chicken noodle soup and it looks a whole lot better than what you were getting here – smells good, too. I can almost forgive them for using the Styrofoam." Al had long been a proponent of protecting the environment and any use of Styrofoam was enough to get him angry.

He pulled the plastic cover off of the soup bowl and put a spoon in it. "Eat up," he told Sam before sitting down and unwrapping his sandwich.

Sam played with the soup with the spoon for a bit before finally bringing a spoonful of it to his mouth. "It's not bad," he told Al. He spooned up some more of the soup but it didn't take long before he started to tire more and more and his hand began to tremble.

Al noticed Sam beginning to tire and quickly put his sandwich down and stood up next to the bed. "You need a hand, there, Sam?" he asked seeing Sam's hand start to shake.

"I can feed myself," Sam replied with some heat. Unfortunately the trembling in his hand picked that moment to get worse and instead of the spoonful of soup going into his mouth he ended up spilling it on himself. "Damn," he whispered before tossing the spoon onto the table and pulling the now damp hospital gown away from himself. Luckily the soup had cooled off so he hadn't burned himself.

Al pushed the table out of the way and grabbed for a couple of napkins to blot up the spilled soup.

"I can do it myself," Sam said making a grab for the napkins.

"Ok, here you go," Al said surrendering the napkins. "I'm going to see if I can get you a clean gown to put on."

"No, don't," Sam begged. "I don't need one."

"Yes, you do," Al told him firmly before leaving the room.

When Al got back to the room a few minutes later carrying the clean gown Sam was sitting with his arms folded across his chest. Al flashed on the old saying, "if looks could kill" and realized if it were really true he would be dead.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Al said unapologetically, "but you can't keep that damp thing on. C'mon now, let me help you get changed."

Al nudged Sam's shoulder so he'd lean forward so Al could undo the ties in the back. He unsnapped the sleeve over Sam's left shoulder and pulled it from his right arm letting the gown pool in Sam's lap. Sam kept his silence allowing Al to put the clean gown on him, tying up the back of it and snapping the sleeve over his shoulder before leaning back against the pillow.

"Whoever came up with these snaps on the sleeves was a genius," Al said trying to break Sam's silence. "I remember when I was stuck in the hospital when I came back from 'Nam. They kept having to thread the IV bag through the sleeve. This is a lot easier."

Sam still said nothing and kept his gaze downcast to his lap.

Al put down the safety rail and, grabbing the bowl of soup and the spoon, sat down gently on the side of the bed. The feel of Al settling on the bed prompted Sam to raise his eyes to see what Al was doing.

"Now I know you can feed yourself, Sam. I've seen you do it more than enough times to know that but how 'bout I give you a hand right now and you take care of it when you're not so tired." Al spooned up some soup and held it to Sam's mouth. Sam mulishly stared back at Al and refused to open his mouth even when Al pressed the spoon against his lower lip.

Al quickly realized that Sam wasn't going to allow himself to be fed so he dropped the spoon back into the bowl and put it back on the table with a sigh.

"I know exactly what you're thinking," he said to Sam.

"You don't know what I'm thinking at all," Sam hotly replied.

In comparison to Sam's anger Al kept his voice quiet and calm. "You wouldn't want to bet would you? You're thinking that you're a grown man and you shouldn't be fed like you're still a baby. You're thinking that you're tired of being treated like a helpless invalid and that you'd like nothing better than to get out of that bed right now and take care of yourself. Am I right?"

Sam didn't answer Al. He just stared at him.

"Don't answer me, but I know I'm right. Wanna know how I know I'm right?"

Again Al paused to give Sam a chance to answer. All he got out of him was the tiniest of shrugs.

"I'm know I'm right because I've been where you are right now back when I first got back from 'Nam. I've never told you or anyone else about it 'cause it embarrassed the hell out of me – and it still does. When I got back I couldn't lift a spoon to try to feed myself. I couldn't even lift my head up off the pillows. I had no choice but to rely on everyone around me to do everything for me…everything from wiping my nose to wiping my butt. I had to let someone else do it. I had no choice because I couldn't do it for myself. And I had no one, Sam. My wife thought I was dead and she'd remarried. I had no family. I was alone and I had to let all of these strangers take care of me and do the most intimate things for me and I hated it. I was still a prisoner at the mercy of someone else. That hospital bed was just another kind of cage and I couldn't get out of it anymore than I could the one the VC had put me in."

Al paused for just a second to see if his words were having an affect on Sam before continuing in the same low voice.

"After a couple of days of this I decided I was going to do something about it all, that I was going to be the one in charge. There wasn't a whole lot I could do though. I couldn't really stop anyone when they came in to poke and prod me or to bathe me. I was too weak to stop any of that. Instead I decided to stop eating. When they tried to feed me I just wouldn't open my mouth – kinda like you just did. Most of the nurses would give up after a while but there was one, let's just say she gave new definition to the word "bitch". When I wouldn't open my mouth she'd pinch my nose so I'd have no choice but to open my mouth and then she'd stick the food in – and I'd spit it right back out at her. After a day and half of this one of the doctor's came in. He told me that since I wouldn't eat on my own they'd have no choice but to use a feeding tube. You know what that is?"

"I know," Sam quietly said.

Al continued as if Sam hadn't spoken. "They stick a tube down your nose and into your stomach and just pump in food that way. Pretty efficient, huh? The doctor told me I had one more chance to eat on my own and if I didn't it'd be the feeding tube. Then he left me alone. From the time the doc walked out until a nurse came in about an hour later to try to feed me again I did a lot of thinking. I wasn't in charge. I wasn't showing anyone who was boss. The only way that was going to happen was if I got stronger. The only way I could do that was to let these people around me help me. When the nurse came in I ate everything she had without putting up a fight. I didn't get better right away and I didn't like it any better than before that I had to let everyone do everything for me but it was the only way I'd be able to reach a point where I'd walk out of that hospital under my own power. And it happened. It took some time but it happened, Sam. And I learned a valuable lesson. Sometimes you've got to just accept help even when you don't want to. It doesn't make you any less of man and it doesn't mean anyone is going to think any less of you…especially the people who care about you."

Al saw that his words had had an effect on Sam. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and he was pulling at the loose thread on the blanket.

Al stood up from the bed and snapped the safety rail back into place before putting the box of tissues on the bed next to Sam. "I'm going to see if I can heat this up for you, it's gotten cold," he said picking up the bowl of soup. "I'll be right back."

He didn't wait for an answer before leaving the room. He wanted to give Sam some time to regain his composure in private. The kid had had his emotions on display for everyone to see enough times the past few days and needed some time in private.

When Al got back to Sam's room 10 minutes later, Sam was just leaning back after another coughing fit. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and he was clutching a handful of tissues.

"Here, let me throw those out for you." Al said as he put the re-heated bowl of soup down and took the tissue from Sam.

Sam's eyes were again downcast but this time Al guessed it was due to embarrassment and not anger. "Thanks. Thanks for everything." he mumbled.

"What? It's just a couple of tissues," Al said deliberately misunderstanding Sam.

Sam finally raised his gaze to meet Al'. "No, thanks for putting up with me even if I am being a pain in the butt."

Al pulled down the safety rail sitting on the side of the bed again. "You're not being a pain in the butt, Sam. You're hurt and your sick and you're frustrated. That's not being a pain in the butt. Now when you constantly nag at me for smoking or call me at 3:00 in the morning 'cause you just have to share your latest breakthrough then you're a pain in the butt."

Al's good-natured joking got the desired response out of Sam as he laughed softly.

"I promise, no more 3:00 calls."

"Good. So, you wanna give this a try again?" Al asked reaching over to grab the bowl of soup.

"Ok, but I still don't like being fed."

"No one said you had to." Al was happy to see there was still a spark of fight in Sam. He started to slowly spoon the soup into Sam's mouth. He'd gotten nearly three-quarters of the bowl into Sam before he'd tired so much that the simple act of chewing and swallowing seemed like work.

Al put the bowl down and grabbed a napkin from the table. He was just about to wipe off Sam's mouth then thought the better of it and handed the napkin to Sam instead. "You did good, Kid," he said as he stood from the bed and raised up the safety rail. "Why don't you try to get some rest now."

Sam nodded agreement and held the napkin out to Al. "I'm so tired again. I hate feeling this way."

"You just got to give yourself time, Sam. You'll start feeling better soon. It's only been a couple of days."

Sam blew out a sigh. "I guess. Why's it so cold in here?" he asked in a quick change of subject.

"Because, it's a hospital." Al knew it wasn't a real answer but it seemed to appease Sam. Truthfully, it didn't feel that cold in the room to him but he suspected it was just another symptom of Sam's illness. He pulled the blanket up and tucked it around Sam's shoulders being careful not to get any of the myriad of wires and tubes tangled in it. He used the bed controls to put the head of the bed down again. "Try to sleep and you'll feel warmer."

Al waited by the side of the bed until Sam closed his eyes. He brushed his hand over Sam's forehead and felt the heat from the building fever. "Let's hope you don't get too much warmer," he murmured. 


	38. Chapter 38

Al was staring mindlessly at the TV when Lydia came into the room just a little before 9:00. 

"Has he been sleeping long?" she asked in a low voice.

Al startled in the chair slightly not having heard Lydia come into the room. "Uh, no," he answered quickly recovering. "He just fell asleep a little while ago."

"I wanted to check in on him before I left. Emily's up to speed on what's been going on and I let her know Dr. Gleason's cleared you to be here as long as you want."

Al turned off the TV and stood up next to the bed across from Lydia. "Thanks and thanks for all you've done for Sam the past couple of days. I really appreciate it."

"He is gonna pull through this just fine, Al. He just needs a little time," she said meeting Al's eyes. "I've seen patients a lot worse than Sam come through just fine." She shifted her gaze back down to Sam's face. "He's a fighter and that's going to help him out a lot and he's got you to back him up."

Sam rolled his head on the pillow and arched his back mumbling. Al reached down and rubbed his shoulder speaking quietly to him until he fell still again.

"He's probably getting pretty stiff and sore being on his back so much," Lydia said once Al had quieted Sam. "It's pretty hard to move him around right now with his leg in that brace and the chest tube. That's why Dr. Gleason and Dr. Childs wanted us to start getting him up out of bed for short times. He's probably not going to be up to that again until the fever breaks." She looked quickly up at the clock and then back to Al. "I better get going or my cat's going to think I deserted her. I'll see the two of you on Monday."

"You won't be here tomorrow?" Al questioned.

"No, Sunday is one of my day's off. Jeanine will be here tomorrow. Don't worry, she'll take good care of him. Have a good night and try to get some rest yourself."

"Yeah, you to," Al answered absent-mindedly as he switched his attention back to Sam who was starting to get restless again. Al put the safety rail down and sat on the side of the bed. "Shhh, Sam. It's ok. Just sleep," he comforted. He wasn't anymore aware of Lydia leaving the room than he had been of her arrival.

Sam slept through the next several hours. Occasionally he'd start to get restless again but a gentle touch from Al and a quietly spoken word would settle him back down. Emily came in and out several times checking Sam's vitals. With his temperature still rising, hourly checks were being made to make sure it didn't get too high. The past two checks it had held steady at 103.5.

Al had once again started to bathe Sam's face with tepid water in the hopes that it would keep his temperature from rising. He'd just taken the washcloth from Sam's forehead to dip it in the cool water again when Sam cracked his eyes open and studied Al.

"Dad?" he finally said after a few moments. "Tell Mom I don't feel so good."

Sam's obvious confusion ratcheted up Al's worry and he gently corrected him, "I'm not your Dad, Sam. It's Al."

Sam again studied Al, his brow creased in puzzlement. "Al?" he finally asked in weak voice.

Al made sure to keep his voice pitched low and gentle as he clarified for Sam. "Yeah, Sam, I'm Al – your friend."

Sam's gaze wandered around the room and Al wasn't sure if Sam recognized him yet. Finally Sam's gaze rested on Al again and this time there was more recognition in his eyes. "Al?"

Al nodded his head at Sam.

Sam swallowed before saying, "I'm thirsty."

"Hang on, let me get you some water." Al poured water from the pitcher into the cup and put a bent straw in it. He raised Sam's head up enough so he could drink without choking and held the straw to his lips. Sam took a small sip of the water before weakly pushing Al's hand and the cup away.

"Don't want that," he murmured before again saying he was thirsty.

Again Al tried to offer the water to Sam and again he pushed it away all the while saying he was thirsty.

Al was just about to try to give him the water for a third time when it occurred to him that although Sam might be thirsty, it wasn't water that he wanted.

"What do you want, Sam?" he tried asking him.

"Thirsty," Sam repeated.

"I know, Kid. Tell me what you want."

Sam's brow furrowed in concentration but the only answer he came up with for Al's question was, "Not water."

Instead of trying to press Sam again, Al reached over and grabbed the call bell activating it. Hopefully Emily would be able to get some juice or something that Sam would find more to his liking.

It wasn't more than a minute later before Emily appeared in the room.

"Look who's awake," she said cheerily seeing Sam's eyes open.

Sam studied Emily as studiously as he had Al when he'd first woken up. "Mama?" he finally asked.

"No, Sweetie," Emily told him brushing the hair back from his forehead. "It's Emily Rearden. I'm you're nurse."

"He's been a little disoriented since he woke up," Al needlessly pointed out.

"It's not surprising given the fever he's running." Emily switched her attention back to Sam. "Sam, do you need something?"

Again Sam pondered the question for longer than would normally be necessary before again giving the same simple answer, "Thirsty."

"I tried giving him some water," Al added. "He pushed it away and asked for something else but he doesn't seem to know what he wants."

"Sam," Emily called getting Sam's attention. "How about some apple juice? Would you like some apple juice?"

After a short pause Sam gave a small nod of his head.

"Ok, Sweetie. You just hang on and I'll get you some?"

Sam watched Emily leave the room before his gaze wandered back to Al resting on him for a moment before he again looked all around the room. "What happened?" he finally asked Al.

Al forced himself to keep his voice calm and level as he answered Sam even if inside his worry had grown exponentially as Sam seemed to have forgotten why he was in the hospital. "You were in an accident, Sam. Do you remember?"

"A car?" Sam asked after a moment's thought.

"Yeah, a car. A car hit you and you got hurt pretty bad. Now you're just a little sick but the doc's giving you some medicine and you'll be good as new in no time." He only hoped what he was saying was true.

"Oh," Sam replied softly before adding, "I'm still thirsty."

"I know, Kid. Emily's gone to get you some juice. She'll be right back." He picked up the washcloth from where he'd put it on the bedside table and soaking it in the basin of water before wringing it out. He gently wiped the cool, damp cloth over Sam's face and neck before dipping it into the water again. This time he folded it after he'd wrung it out and laid it across Sam's forehead just as Emily came back into the room.

"Here, try this," she told Al handing him a foil sealed plastic cup of apple juice. "Let me know if he needs anything else."

Al took the straw out of the cup of water and used it to pierce the foil covering the cup. He pulled the safety rail down from the side of bed and sat next to Sam. "Here you go, Sam. Try this."

Al put the straw to Sam's lips and this time he took more than just a sip. He let him drink his fill of the juice only pulling it away when Sam started to choke on it. "Easy, easy. Not so fast, Sam. No one's going to take it away from you." Once Sam had caught his breath Al again put the straw to his lips. This time Sam slowly sipped at the juice, pushing the cup and Al's hand away when he'd had his fill.

"Want some more?" Al asked him after a few minutes. When Sam shook his head "no" he put the cup back down on the table and got up from the bed, pulling the safety rail into place.

Sam made an abortive attempt to stretch and find a more comfortable position. The washcloth slipped off his forehead to rest on the pillow with the movement and he reached up to grab it, looking at it curiously before handing it over to Al. He attempted to shift position in the bed again and arched his back before he gave up, sighing in frustration.

After putting the washcloth back in the basin Al watched Sam try to get comfortable. "You should try to sleep," he suggested when Sam stilled his movements.

"My back's sore, can't get comfortable." Sam again tried to shift his position but was hampered in how far he could move by both the leg brace and the chest tube not to mention all the other tubes and wires.

"I'm not surprised," Al told him. "You've been on your back nearly constantly for the least few days. You want to ring for the nurse and get something for it?"

Sam shook his head no after a moment's thought. "It's not really hurting. It's just stiff and sore."

Al thought about the problem and seemed to hit on what he thought would be a solution to Sam's discomfort. He'd noticed from the time he'd spent looking after Sam when he had bronchitis that he rarely slept on his back. Instead he seemed to either curl around his pillow on his left side or sleep on his stomach. He was prevented from getting into either position because of everything he was attached to. "Hang on a second, Sam, I think I've got an idea." He quickly left the room without explaining his idea to Sam.

Al tracked down Emily and quickly explained both Sam's discomfort as well as his idea. She agreed that even if it didn't help Sam, trying at least wouldn't hurt. He came back into the room carrying several extra pillows.

Sam watched curiously as Al first pulled the tray table back over the bed and the piled the extra pillows on top of it. "I'm just going to raise up the bed now," Al warned him. Once Sam was fully upright Al urged him to lean forward long enough to take the pillow out from behind him. He put that pillow in Sam's lap across his mid-section and pulled the table with the pillows so it was up against it then urged Sam to lean forward more so that his chest and shoulders were supported by the pillows on the table. They were high enough up so that he was able to rest his head on them as well which he did, raising his arms up to rest on the pillows on either side of his head.

"Is that uncomfortable or hurting you?" Al asked.

"No," Sam answered, his voice slightly muffled from leaning on the pillows. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see if I can do something about your back being stiff and sore." Al put the head of the bed back down and then untied the back of Sam's gown. He pushed it so that it came off his shoulders slightly then dropped down the safety rail again. He grabbed the bottle of lotion that was on the bedside table and poured some of it in his hands and rubbed them together to warm it up. "This might be a little cold," he warned just before he started to rub up and down Sam's back, neck and shoulders.

Sam at first flinched when he felt the coolness of the lotion on Al's hands but quickly relaxed back against the pillows as Al seemed to find where all the kinks were in his back.

"Geez, Sam, you're just a mass of knots. No wonder you're so sore." Al took great care to avoid touching any of the bruises that wrapped around to Sam's back on his left side. "Am I hurting you?" Al asked after a while.

Silence greeted his question and he thought Sam might have drifted off to sleep. "Uh-uh," Sam finally responded, his voice slurring. "Feels good."

Al kept rubbing Sam's back and shoulders for another few minutes before leaning forward to get a look at his face. Sam was struggling to keep his eyes open and seemed on the verge of falling asleep. Although Emily had said there shouldn't be a problem putting Sam into the position of leaning forward as long as there was something to support him, she'd recommended Al not let him stay in that position for too long. Al decided it probably wouldn't be for the best to allow Sam to sleep leaning forward.

He did up the ties on the back of the gown and nudged Sam to lean back supporting him with an arm across his chest. As Al grabbed the pillow off of his lap and put it back on the bed Sam sleepily listed over until he was completely leaning against Al with his head on his shoulder. Seeing that Sam was more asleep than awake Al gently guided him to lean back against the pillow keeping one hand cradling the base of Sam's head and neck and the other supporting his back and shoulders.

Sam moaned softly in protest at the loss of contact when Al straightened up but quickly settled back down. He made one aborted attempt to roll over onto his side before falling into a deeper sleep.

Al smoothed the blanket over Sam and snapped the safety rail back into place before pushing the table from over the bed. He put the pile of pillows on the chair Sam had been using earlier and then settled down in the room's other chair. After another look to make sure Sam was sleeping, Al slouched down in his chair and closed his eyes to try to catch some sleep himself, satisfied that he'd brought at least some small measure of comfort to his friend. He'd learned, while a guest of the VC, how to sleep just about anywhere and in just about any position. It wasn't long before he'd also dozed off. 


	39. Chapter 39

The sensation of someone standing over him brought Al to wakefulness some time later. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Emily draping a blanket over him.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, it's ok," he reassured her. He sat up straighter in the chair asking, "How's he doing?"

"His temperature's still rising. It's up to 104."

Al was alarmed to hear how high Sam's fever had climbed. "I thought the new antibiotic was supposed to be helping him. Why's he still getting worse?"

"It can take up to 24 hours before we see results from it. I've placed a call in to Dr. Carruthers. He's on call tonight and I'd like him to take a look at Sam and make sure nothing's being missed."

Al made a face at the mention of Dr. Carruthers. "I don't suppose there's any other doctor on call instead?" When he saw the questioning look on Emily's face he further explained, "Let's just say we don't have a really good history. I wasn't very happy with the treatment he gave Sam the other night."

"He can be a bit abrasive," Emily agreed. "I can see who else I can get to come and check Sam but I think Dr. Carruthers will get here a lot quicker."

"No, it's all right," Al told her. "I don't want Sam to have to wait longer than necessary."

Emily brushed her hand over Sam's forehead. "He reminds me of my Danny," she quietly said. "We lost him 5 years ago to a drunk driver." She smiled ruefully looking up at Al. "It gave me a start earlier when he called me Mama." Emily pulled herself up straight all business again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

"No, it's ok," Al assured her. "I'm sorry about your son."

"Thank you, Admiral," she sincerely told him. "Dr. Carruthers should be here soon. In the meantime if you need anything or if Sam does, just let me know."

After Emily had left the room Al pulled his chair over so that he could lean his crossed arms on the railing and just looked at Sam. Al couldn't remember a time when he'd ever seen the younger man looking so vulnerable. When Sam started to stir and toss his head fitfully on the pillow Al reached out and laid his hand in the center of Sam's chest and spoke quietly to him. "Shhh, Sam. You're ok. Everything's gonna be ok." This time neither Al's touch nor his words seemed to have any kind of effect on Sam as he grew more and more restless.

With a hoarse shout of "no" Sam's eyes popped open and he tried to push away whatever it was that only he could see. Al made an attempt to still Sam's flailing arms but wasn't fast enough to stop him from sharply hitting the back of his left hand against the bed railing.

Al quickly grabbed Sam's left hand checking to see if any damage had been done to the IV. To his untrained eye it looked fine although there was some bruising on the back of Sam's hand. He couldn't remember if it had been there before or if it was caused from the hit Sam had just given his hand.

Sam still continued to try to push whatever he was seeing away and Al had to struggle to keep his arms still. He tried to keep his voice as reassuring as he possibly could to try to get Sam to settle down. "It's ok, Sam. C'mon, calm down. You're ok. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Sam finally lay still in the bed as his efforts quickly tired him out. Unfortunately, Dr. Carruthers chose that moment to walk in to the room. One look at him and Sam resumed his struggles this time begging Al to help him.

"No," Sam pleaded, his eyes wide in fear. "Don't let him tie me up, please. I'll be good, I promise."

Sam had grabbed onto Al's shirt front and tried to lever himself up that way. Al had no choice but to slip a hand behind Sam's back to support him or he would have toppled onto the bed on top of Sam. "Hey, easy, Sammy. He's not going to hurt you." Al tried to get Sam to lie back against the bed while trying to release the hold he had on his shirt one-handed.

"Well, I see nothing's changed since the other night," Dr. Carruthers commented dryly. "Do you think you can get him in hand so I can examine him and move on to the next patient."

Al shot Carruthers a look that would have melted an iceberg before turning his attention back to Sam. After another minute of coaxing he finally managed to calm Sam down enough to let go of his shirt and lie back quietly. There was nothing he could do, though, to erase the look of fear from Sam's eyes.

Once Sam was quiet Carruthers quickly examined him sparing no thought for his comfort.

"You want to not treat him like a side of beef," Al finally asked in irritation.

Carruthers hung his stethoscope around his neck and heatedly said, "Admiral Calavicci, I don't tell you how to do your job so please, don't tell me how to do mine." He didn't give Al a chance to respond before continuing, "I see no great change in Mr. Beckett's condition that would warrant any change in the treatment prescribed by Dr. Gleason. The antibiotic needs to be allowed time to actually begin to work. Now, if you've no questions I've other patients to see."

Al bit back anything he'd like to say to Carruthers realizing it would be fruitless to voice anything. "Hell of a lot of good he did," he commented to no one watching Carruthers depart. He was brought back to reality by the soft voice coming from the bed.

"Is he gone?" Sam asked.

Al looked down to Sam whose body was still tense with fear. "Yeah, Kid, he's gone. It's all gonna be ok."

Sam let out a breath and his body went limp with reassurance that Dr. Carruthers had departed. "Can I go back to sleep," he asked. The dream that had woken him early had, apparently, been forgotten.

"Sure, Kid. Can you drink some water for me first?" Al didn't give Sam a chance to answer before holding the straw to his lips. When Sam pushed the cup away after a few sips Al put it down on the table and straightened out the blanket over Sam. "Go back to sleep now. I'll be here."

Sam had just fallen asleep when Emily came back into the room, a bag of IV antibiotics in one hand. Al watched silently while she added the antibiotics to the IV going into the back of Sam's hand. "With any luck we should start seeing results from this soon," she told Al before leaving.

Once Emily had left the room Al again settled down in the chair slouching down and getting as comfortable as possible. As long as Sam was sleeping quietly he'd take advantage to try to catch whatever little sleep he could himself.

The sun was just beginning to rise and Al was struggling once again to calm Sam down. He'd only slept for a short time after Dr. Carruthers' visit before again waking up from a terrifying nightmare. His fever had climbed steadily higher and he'd grown more delirious as the night wore on sometimes barely even recognizing Al. Al had gotten even less sleep than Sam spending so much time trying to keep him calm or just watching for the next outburst.

Thankfully Sam seemed to recognize him quickly this time and quieted down fairly quickly.

"Ok, now, Sam?" Al questioned before releasing his hold on him completely.

Sam gave a tiny nod of his head and Al let go of his arms. Al hated that he'd been forced to physically restrain Sam from time to time but felt it was the lesser of two evils.

"I want to go home," Sam quietly voiced.

"I know you do, Sam. You just need to wait a little longer." He brushed the sweat-soaked hair back from Sam's face. "You need a haircut when you get outta here." It seemed an inane thing to say but somehow thinking about something as ordinary as Sam getting his hair cut helped to reassure Al that eventually this nightmare would be over.

"You need a clean shirt," Sam weakly countered.

Al looked down at himself and knew there was no way he could argue with Sam. He did need a clean shirt. He could also use a hot-shower, a good meal and about 8 hours of sleep but he was no more likely to get them anytime soon than he was the clean shirt. He made a mental note that he'd have to send some laundry out for the hotel to do. Since they weren't supposed to be in Washington for more than two days he hadn't packed that much in the way of extra clothes. The blue silk shirt he had on was seeing it's second, no it was a new day already so make that it's third day of wear and it showed the signs of it. It looked like he'd slept in it, which he had, and was dotted across the front with apple juice stains from when Sam had knocked the cup out of his hand during the night. "You promise to settle down and just sleep for a couple of hours without fighting off imaginary demons and maybe I can go back to the hotel and get changed."

Al had meant what he'd said in jest but, unfortunately, Sam wasn't up to deciphering his jokes yet and his face fell at the realization that Al had spent the night at the hospital because of him.

"Oh geez, Sam," Al said seeing his face, "I was only joking don't get upset. C'mon we want your temp to go down and it's not gonna do that if you go getting upset again." Al meant it to come out comforting but his own weariness was catching up with him and he realized that he sounded petulant instead of comforting.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "You can go, you don't have to stay."

"Sam," Al said and seeing Sam flinch in the bed realized it had come out sharper than he intended. He rubbed his hands across his face and tried again. "Sam, you have nothing to be sorry for. I stayed with you not because I had to or because you wanted me to but because I wanted to, ok. So there's nothing for you to apologize for." Al wearily sank down to sit on the side of the bed. "I just want you to get better, Kid, that's all. Ok?"

Sam scrutinized Al's face and seeing only openness and honesty nodded his head in agreement.

Even with Sam's agreement Al suddenly felt like he was walking on eggshells unsure how Sam would react to whatever it was he said. He was rescued from saying anything further when Emily came in for a vitals check.

When she saw that Sam was awake she cautiously approached the bed. A couple of times during the night he'd startled on seeing her. "Sam," she asked, "do you know who I am?"

"Yes," he cautiously answered, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"You weren't sure a few times during the night and it upset you. I just wanted to make sure," she explained.

All three fell silent while she checked his vitals, smiling in satisfaction when she saw the readout on the thermometer. "It's back down to 104," she happily announced. It had steadily gone up during the night peaking at 104.6 before holding steady. This was the first time it had gone down in the last 24 hours. Although it was still high, at least it was going in the right direction now. "I'd say that antibiotic is finally kicking in. I'm going to be leaving soon but I just wanted to check you one more time. Diane will be in to check on you again soon and I'll see you again tonight."

Sam was just about to say goodbye when he was beset by another coughing fit. Both Emily and Al moved to help him into an upright position. While Al supported him and rubbed up and down his back Emily grabbed a handful of tissues and held them up to his mouth. "No, don't try to hold it in," she told him when he made a vain attempt to stifle the cough. "You need to get this all out of you." Once the coughing fit had subsided Emily bunched up the tissues throwing them into the wastebasket. Al settled Sam back against the pillows and grabbed the washcloth from the basin of water and used it wipe Sam's face.

"I know it doesn't feel so good, Sam, but it's good that you're getting that out of you," Emily told him. "I hope I'm seeing you doing better when I come back tonight and Admiral, don't forget to get some rest yourself."

The two men watched Emily leave and once she had Sam turned his face to the window watching the sun rise. "When I was a kid most mornings I'd be up and milking cows before the sun was up." Sam's face took on a distant, far-away look as he continued. "It was always so quiet and peaceful then – the best time to just think. Tom used to hate having to get up that early but it never really bothered me." Sam was interrupted from saying anything more by a series of short coughs.

Once the coughing had again ended and Al had helped Sam to lie back against the pillow he once more grabbed the wet washcloth and used it to wipe the sweat from Sam's face. "Boy you're starting to get all sweaty."

"The fever's starting to break," Sam stated matter of factly.

Al greeted Sam's statement with a quizzical look.

"When you first run a fever you shiver and get the chills because your body's trying to raise its temperature, then you get hot and when the fever breaks you get sweaty because your body's trying to cool itself down again." Sam wearily explained.

When Al continued to look at him quizzically Sam hastened add, "I'm a doctor, remember? They taught me those kinds of things."

"I don't doubt you, Sam," Al reassured him. "I guess I'm a little surprised that half the night I was lucky if you knew who I was and now you're explaining the reasons behind a fever to me. You should try to get some sleep now, though, instead of tiring yourself out."

"I'm tired of being tired and sleeping and I'm tired of being sick," Sam said. The tone of his voice was just short of being a whine. "I just want to go home," he said again.

If it weren't for the fact that Sam were so ill Al may have been tempted to laugh at him. Between the tone of voice just short of a whine, Sam rapidly blinking his eyes to keep them open and the yawn the punctuated his desire to go home he reminded Al of a tired little boy. Laughing, though would not have been a good thing to do.

"Get some rest," Al simply suggested before rising from the bed and putting the washcloth back into the basin of water and once again resuming his seat. Neither man said anything else and within a few minutes Sam had slipped back to sleep. Al sat watching him and there seemed to be something different about Sam's sleep this time. It seemed more peaceful now than it had at anytime during the night.

Sam slept through most of the morning only waking a few times for short periods of time. Although it seemed like his fever was going down and the antibiotic was finally starting to work he was still weak and tired easily. When he was thirsty and wanted to drink Al still had to hold the cup for him because his hand shook so much from fatigue.

When Dr. Gleason came in during the mid-morning on his rounds he was pleased to see that Sam's temperature had dropped down so that it was hovering just over 103. He assured Al that although Sam was still quite ill he did see improvement in him and then tried to encourage Al to go back to the hotel to get some rest himself.

"I can assure you, Admiral, he has turned the corner and will likely continue to improve throughout the day. You need to go get some rest yourself."

"No," Al argued. "I'm not leaving him until I'm sure he's going to be ok. I'm not going to come back to this room to find him tied up like a dog again."

"You've been here more than 24 hours straight," Dr. Gleason tried. "If you don't get some rest yourself your quite likely to end up sharing a room with Sam. He's in a deep, natural sleep right now and the likelihood of him waking up in the next couple of hours is very slight. Now that the antibiotic is working his body is going to demand rest to help him heal. You'll be quite safe leaving him alone to get a few hours sleep yourself." Dr. Gleason sighed seeing the stubborn set to Al's face. "If you won't go back to your hotel and get some sleep at least go back and take a shower and get a change of clothes and something to eat. Trust me, Sam's going to be able to continue to rest much better if he's not also worrying about you keeling over on him."

"Ok, Al finally gave in. I'll go back to the hotel for a little while but I'm not going to be gone more than an hour and half – two hours tops. Just long enough for a shower and to change and then I'll be back. He stirs in the slightest, though, and I want to know about it."

"You have my word. If he shows any signs of waking you'll be notified of it promptly."

After giving Al his assurance Dr. Gleason continued to stand in the room with his arms crossed just looking at Al.

"What?" Al finally asked.

"I'm waiting for you to get your coat and leave, Admiral."

"You're just going stand there until I do?"

Dr. Gleason didn't answer Al, just nodded his head.

"Fine, fine, I'm going, ok," Al said in exasperation grabbing his coat. Before he left the room he bent over the bed. "Sam," he whispered. "I'm just going back to the hotel for a little while and then I'll be back. You just keep sleeping and you won't even know I'm gone." He didn't get any response from the younger man, nor did he expect one. He again brushed the hair back from Sam's forehead noticing that it did feel cooler before straightening up and leaving the room. "Don't gloat, Doc," he told Dr. Gleason as he walked by him. "I'm gonna be back soon."


	40. Chapter 40

Luck was on Al's side and as soon as he walked out of the hospital he was able to hail a cab to take him back to the hotel. Since it was a Sunday morning there wasn't nearly as much traffic as there had been other days and Al quickly arrived back at his hotel. After handing the driver the fare and a generous tip, he wearily pulled himself from the backseat and trudged into the lobby. He was just walking by the front desk to go to the elevators when he heard his name called out.

Turning he saw the manager he'd spoken to earlier in the week again calling his name and went over to him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Admiral Calavicci, but there were a number of phone messages for you and I wanted to make sure you got them. Some of them are a couple of days old"

Al thanked the man and took the slips of paper handed to him. He quickly flipped through them while the elevator brought him to his floor. Most of them were calls from the project, no doubt to see how Sam was doing. After initially calling and speaking to Gooshie to let him know what had happened it had never occurred to him to call them with an update on Sam. Too many other things had quickly taken over his attention. It hadn't even occurred to him to check with the front desk to see if he had any messages.

When the elevator doors opened on his floor he quickly looked at his watch. It was 10:00 which meant it was 7:00 back in New Mexico. Frankly he didn't care how early it was there. This would probably be the only chance he'd have to return the calls until this evening and he preferred to get it done and out of the way. He'd just make one call to Gooshie, though, and let him know what was going on and he could pass the word along to everyone else. He felt a slight tug of guilt that he hadn't talked to Tina in the past several days but right now he just didn't have the time.

Walking through the door he took off his coat and tossed it on one of the beds. He sat down on the other and grabbed the phone dialing the number that would put him through to Gooshie and quickly brought him up to speed with what was going on. Gooshie promised that he'd make sure everyone back at the project knew and the two of them decided that Al would check-in with Gooshie each morning instead of having multiple people call.

Once he'd hung up the phone Al sat for another few moments on the bed looking down at the pillows. His eyes were burning with fatigue and he felt like he'd gone a week instead of just a night without any sleep. He longed to just lie down even if it were for only an hour or two but he'd promised Sam that he'd be right back. Despite his resolve to get up and go take a shower he felt his body lie back on the pillows almost of its own volition.

He looked over to the digital clock on the table between the beds and saw the numbers 10:12 glowing back at him in red. He blinked his eyes and when they opened the numbers had changed to 11:50 and he immediately jerked upright. He hadn't intended to fall asleep but that's just what he'd done for nearly two hours. Since the phone hadn't rung in that time he had to assume that meant that Sam was still sleeping.

He pulled himself from the bed and rifled through the remaining clothes in his suitcase. He was fresh out of clean shirts and had no trousers left. He pulled out a pair of jeans that he'd stuffed into the suitcase for reasons he couldn't even fathom. He seldom wore them but no matter what the reason, he was grateful that he'd put them in the suitcase. He grabbed Sam's bag and rifled through it pulling out a worn M.I.T. sweatshirt. It would have to do. Given the size difference between him and Sam he knew it would be a baggy fit on him but it would probably be a better fit than if he'd tried for any of the flannel button down shirts that were in the bag.

He gathered up the clothes he'd pulled out and headed for the shower. It would be, he decided, a good idea to call Tina when he got back to the hospital and have her send him out more clothes. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have some sent out for Sam as well since they would still be in Washington for a period of time after Sam was discharged. He also made a mental note that he'd have to do something about getting a coat for Sam since his had been pretty much cut to shreds at the hospital.

Al made quick work of his shower and was finished with it and dressed and heading out the door by 12:15. He decided he'd just stop in at the deli across from the hospital and grab something to eat there. If they had it again, he'd also get Sam another bowl of the chicken soup. He doubted Sam would be up to eating much today so the soup would probably do the trick.

It was just a little after 1:00 when Al arrived back in Sam's room and found him still sleeping. It looked as if he hadn't moved in the time Al had been gone.

Diane was just finishing adding another bag of IV antibiotics when Al entered and smiled at him over her shoulder. "Don't worry," she assured, "he's been sleeping soundly since you left."

Al went around to the other side of the bed and put the bag from the deli down on the windowsill and took his coat off and hung it on the back of the chair. He walked over to the bed and looked down at Sam and rested the back of his hand along the side of his face. "He feels a bit cooler," he said.

"His fever's been going steadily down all morning. It was down to 102.8 when I checked a little while ago."

"Good, good. I got him some soup across the street, I hope that's ok."

"That should be fine. They brought up his lunch earlier but he slept right through it. He's probably going be hungry when he wakes up." Diane looked quickly up at the wall clock. "I'm here for about another hour and then Jeanine will be in. Just ring if he needs anything."

Al stood over the bed for a few minutes just watching Sam sleep taking satisfaction in how peaceful he finally looked. Sam must have sensed his presence there because he started to stir and wake up.

"How you doing, Kid?" he asked once Sam seemed to have gotten his bearings.

"Pretty tired," Sam answered rubbing his eyes. "I guess that sound really weird coming from someone who just woke up," he added with a small smile. He looked around and spying the water glass on the table near him reached an uncoordinated hand out to it.

"Need a hand?" Al asked reaching for the cup before Sam had a chance to knock it over.

"Yeah. My body doesn't seem to want to do what my brain's telling it to." Sam fumbled with the controls on the bed until he was sitting up straighter and put his hand out for the cup.

Al put the cup in his hand but didn't release his hold on it until he was sure Sam had a firm grasp on it. He kept his hand close just in case Sam needed any help steadying it and watched as Sam brought the cup in a shaky grasp to his mouth drinking his fill. When he was done Al took the cup from him putting it down on the table and Sam let his arm fall limply back to the bed before bringing it back up and rubbing his eyes.

"I feel like I just ran a marathon or something," he said looking up at Al.

"Your body went through a real workout last night," Al told him. "It's no wonder you're so exhausted. The doc says it's just going to take a few days 'til you're feeling stronger."

Sam smiled ruefully. "Maybe I can just sleep the next couple of days away."

Al let out a soft laugh, "I've got a feeling you just might do that. You hungry?"

Sam thought for a bit before answering. "A little, I guess. I don't think I could eat very much. I'm not sure I can stay awake to eat that much."

Al grabbed the bag off the windowsill and pulled out the bowl of soup and put it down on the table which he slid completely over the bed. "I figured you wouldn't be up to much so I got you some more of that soup from across the street." He pulled the lid off the soup and put a spoon in the bowl and put some napkins down on the table, tucking one into the front of Sam's hospital gown. "Why don't you see how much of this you can eat."

Sam's hand was so shaky with fatigue that most of the first spoonful of soup ended up on the table and napkin in front of him than in his mouth. He was even shakier when he tried a second spoonful. When he put the spoon into the bowl for a third time Al gently grasped his hand taking the spoon from it. "How 'bout if you let me?" Al asked.

Sam gave a resigned nod before leaning further back into the pillows.

Al grabbed the napkin from in front of Sam and balled it up and used it to blot the soup up off the table which he then slid out of the way. He lowered the safety rail sat on bed reaching for the bowl of soup and slowly started spooning it into Sam's mouth. He'd got about half of the bowl into him before Sam's eyes started to get heavy again and he said that he'd had enough.

Al put the bowl of soup back on the table and stood up from the bed snapping the railing back into place. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep," he needlessly suggested.

"Can I have some more water first?" Sam asked.

"Oh, sure." Al reached for the cup on the table and finding it empty walked to the other side of the bed to refill it from the pitcher on the cabinet near the bed. He made sure to grab a straw from the cabinet as well. This time Sam didn't even make an attempt to hold the cup himself letting Al bring it to his lips for him. When he'd drunk his fill he weakly pushed Al's hand away.

Al made sure the cup was refilled before putting it down on the table which he made sure was in Sam's reach even though he'd slid it so that it wasn't over the bed. While Al cleaned up the remains of the soup from the table Sam used the controls on the bed to lower the head as close to flat as he was comfortable with. He made an attempt to turn over on his side managing to get at least his upper body into a more desirable position. Seeing this, Al grabbed one of the extra pillows from the previous night and put it on the bed so that it was supporting Sam's back, making sure that the chest tube wasn't getting kinked or tangled in the blankets. He pulled up the blanket and smoothed it out and noticed that Sam had already slipped into a deep sleep again.

Al grabbed his lunch from the window sill and switched on the TV making sure to keep the volume low although he was sure a stampeding herd of elephants probably wouldn't have woken Sam up. With very little to choose he decided to leave on the Washington Capitals game. Hockey wasn't really his favorite sport but it was about all that he'd found that came close to holding his interest. He unwrapped his sandwich and settled back to eat it and wait for Sam to wake up again.


	41. Chapter 41

Mentally Sam wasn't ready to wake up but his body had other thoughts. He'd been drinking a lot of water and with a constant IV drip there were a lot of fluids going into his body. Eventually the excess had to come out and right now his bladder was begging for relief. He squinted his eyes open and attempted to lie fully on his back but something soft stopped him. It didn't even register when whatever it was seemed to disappear and he was suddenly fully on his back. He was more intent on finding the call bell and getting the assistance he needed.

He startled slightly when a voice fairly close on his right asked, "You need something, Sam."

He looked in that direction as he pressed the call bell and saw Al's worried face.

"Huh?" he asked knowing it was the least intelligent thing he could have possibly said. His brain hadn't quite woken up completely, though and he needed a bit of time to process the question.

"Do you need something?" Al carefully repeated.

"Uh, no," Sam answered. "I just need to…you know," he explained reddening slightly.

"Oh, well, I can help you with that," Al told him.

"No," Sam quickly responded suddenly coming fully awake. "I don't want you to."

"You didn't seem to care one way or the other last night," Al pointed out.

Sam had only the vaguest of impressions of Al helping him last night but it still was enough to heighten his embarrassment. Last night he wasn't quite in control of all of his mental faculties but this afternoon he was – or pretty close to it – and the thought of Al helping him left him suddenly discomforted.

"No, it's ok, Al. Lydia can help me."

"She's off today," Al reminded him. "If you want to keep waiting for the nurse that's ok, but I'm here now and we can get this done and over with right now. Face it, Kid, you ain't got anything I've never seen before."

Sam was sure Al meant the last part as a joke but he couldn't help that it embarrassed him even more. It felt like his face was on fire and he knew it must have turned a deep shade of red.

"No, Al, it's ok. I can wait."

It seemed Al couldn't resist one last parting shot, "Ok, but you might change your mind when you see Attila the Hun."

Sam didn't get much of a chance to puzzle that over before the nurse came into the room. She was probably in her mid-40's and Sam bit back on the urge to ask her if she'd ever been a member of the East German swim team.

"You need something," she gruffly asked.

"Uh, yeah, I need to…relieve myself," Sam explained stumbling over the words.

Without a word she gave Al a pointed look and quickly hastened to walk to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall near the door. Sam fleetingly saw a look of sympathy on Al's face before the curtain was quickly pulled shut.

The nurse, Sam still didn't know her name, grabbed the plastic urinal from where it was hanging at the foot of the bed and pulled the blanket back from Sam. She pulled up the bottom of his gown and roughly put the plastic bottle in place before standing back and folding her arms across his chest while she waited for him to finish.

Her treatment of him only served to further Sam's embarrassment. The other nurses had been far gentler and had tried to preserve at least a measure of his privacy by pulling the blanket back into place and stepping out behind the curtain until he was done. He even had the vaguest notion that Al had also done his best to offer him privacy last night.

He found that his body tensed up and he wasn't able to do anything. If it weren't for the situation he might have found his sudden "performance anxiety" humorous.

"Well do you have to go or not?" the nurse asked with some impatience.

"I…uh…I'm trying," Sam responded in a quiet voice.

"It's not rocket science. Either you have to or you don't. I don't have all day to wait here 'til you figure out something a child can do."

Sam didn't think it was possible but he actually felt his face get hotter hearing the nurse's comments. He made a conscious effort to force his body to relax and finally felt nature take its course He quietly informed the nurse that he was done.

Sam closed his eyes and intentionally tried to block out anything the nurse did at that point and wished himself anywhere but in the hospital bed. He felt the blanket pulled back up over him and heard the curtain snap open but he continued to keep his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The nurse may have said something to Al on her way out but he neither heard it clearly nor did he really care. Any good humor he might have had when he'd woken earlier had quickly disappeared.

Al leaned against the wall while he waited for Sam to finish and truly felt sorry for the younger man. He'd met the nurse, Kelly, earlier when she'd come in to check Sam's vitals. When he'd commented, after seeing her name tag, that he'd been told Sam's nurse would be Jeanine she'd brusquely explained to him that Jeanine was unable to come in due to a family emergency. She hadn't seemed pleased to have been called in.

Al was able to hear the conversation filtering out from the other side of the curtain – at least Kelly's side of it – and he became more and more displeased. He knew that Sam was uncomfortable having to have someone assist him with such intimate details and Kelly's callous treatment seemed to be making it even harder for Sam.

He was just getting ready to go back on the other side of the curtain when he faintly heard Sam saying he was done so he relaxed back against the wall. His displeasure must have been plain on his face when Kelly snapped the curtain open and walked past him into the room's bathroom.

"I'm sorry if you don't approve," she told him, "but this a busy hospital and I don't have the time to be mollycoddling grown men."

Al would have said something in reply but he looked across the room to Sam and saw how he'd tried to draw into himself. He bit back his reply not wanting to cause any further reason for Sam to be discomforted.

He walked back over to stand by the bed but didn't say anything until he'd heard Kelly leave and the door close behind her.

"She's some piece of work, huh?" he commented hoping to draw Sam out. Although his body lost some of its tenseness when the door closed Sam was still keeping his eyes closed.

Sam didn't answer nor had Al expected him to. He groped for something else to say to fill the silence but nothing really came to him. He settled on the inane. "I called Tina while you were asleep. Can you believe she was annoyed 'cause I hadn't called her before today – as if I didn't have other things on my mind. Anyway, once I got her to see my side of it I asked her to pack up some clothes for the both of us and send them to the hotel. You might have noticed I'm not dressed to my usual standards today. I had to take a page out of the Beckett fashion book. How long have you had this thing anyway?" he asked pulling at the sweatshirt.

Al's chatter finally got through to Sam and he cracked his eyes open looking at him. "That's mine," he softly said seeming to notice what Al had on for the first time.

Al went around the bed and settled in his chair again. "Took you long enough to notice."

"Why are you wearing my clothes," Sam asked confused.

"Because," Al explained, "I'm fresh out of anything that's clean. Trust me Kid, it's not because I have any great desire to emulate your fine fashion sense. How old is this thing and why do you still have it?"

"I'm sorry," Sam dryly said. "I'll make sure I keep you in mind next time I'm packing. I sleep in that so I guess I've never given much thought to how old it is. I'm sure I had other shirts in my bag."

Seeing that he'd drawn Sam out with the senseless conversation Al decided to take a chance and turn the conversation back around to Sam letting him help. "You know Sam, there are things I can help you with so you don't have to call a nurse."

"I know that, Al, but you don't have to."

"Whoever said I had to?" Al pointed out. "I just want to help you."

Sam squirmed a bit under Al's scrutiny. "I know you do but…you're my friend and….well…there's just things that friends shouldn't have to do. Please, Al, let me do this my way."

Al could see where it might be more embarrassing for Sam to have someone he knew so well taking care of certain aspects rather than a stranger. "Ok, Sam. I won't bring it up again."

"Thanks," Sam said with relief. "Is it really almost 4:30?" he asked with some surprise.

"Yeah," Al answered looking over to the clock. "You've slept most of the day away."

Sam rubbed one hand over his face and stretched the best he could. "I feel like I could sleep even more."

"If you're tired you should let yourself sleep."

"Nah," Sam answered. "I'm getting kind of tired of sleeping all the time. Besides if I keep sleeping now I might end up awake all night. Do you think I can try calling Mom? I never did call her back yesterday and I don't want her to worry – not in her condition."

"Sure, Sam," Al said pulling the phone to where Sam could reach it. "I ended up talking to your Mom yesterday and explained what was going on. It's pretty tough to keep anything from her."

"So she knows I've been sick, too?" Sam questioned.

"I tried to keep it from her but she weaseled it out of me," Al defended himself. "You want me to dial it for you?"

"Yeah, would you mind?"

Al pulled the piece of paper from his pocket that had the number written down on it and dialed. As soon as the phone on the other end started to ring he handed the phone over to Sam and went to stand over the by the window to give Sam some privacy.

"Hello," Sam said when the phone was answered. "I'm trying to reach Thelma Beckett…oh, ok. Would it be possible to let her know her son Sam called for her?...I'm not certain. My sister should have the number…Ok, thank you."

Sam hung up the phone and Al moved back to get it out of his way. "She's taking a walk with Katie. I guess it was one of the nurses who answered the phone," Sam explained. "She said she'd let Mom know I called." As Sam finished speaking he grimaced in pain.

"You look like you're hurting right now. You need something for the pain?" Al realized that he hadn't seen Sam get any painkillers in a while so either the pain was truly lessening or he'd been ignoring it. Either way, from the look on Sam's face now he needed something.

Sam didn't bother answering Al, he just reached down and rang for the nurse, although he really wasn't looking forward to seeing her again.

Five minutes after Sam had called for a nurse no one had come yet. From the soft sounds Sam kept making and the grimaces Al knew the pain was getting worse. "I'm gonna go out there and get her myself," he said starting to rise.

"No, Al, don't," Sam asked him. "It really not that bad, I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to be waiting, Sam," Al told him although he did sit back down. "The reason they've kept you in a step-down unit and not a regular room is because you shouldn't be waiting for anything. I'll give her another five minutes and whether you want me to or not I'm going to go get her."

Al was just getting ready to fulfill his promise when Kelly finally pushed the door open and came in. Before even asking Sam why he'd rung she turned off the call bell. "What do you need?" she finally asked him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," Sam began, "I was just wondering if I could get something for pain."

She didn't bother to answer him, just left the room. It was nearly another 5 minutes before she came back with a small medicine cup in her hand which she plunked down on the table near Sam.

"What is this?" Sam asked reaching for the cup.

"Percoset," she told him. "Dr. Gleason wants to transition you to oral meds."

Sam put the pill in his mouth reached for the cup of water to wash it down. "Thanks," he said after he'd swallowed it.

Kelly didn't bother to acknowledge his thanks but brusquely asked, "Do you need anything else right now or are you just going to ring again in 15 minutes."

When Sam shook his head to indicate he didn't need anything she left without another word.

"I'll be right back, Sam," Al said getting up and following Kelly out of the room. "Excuse me," he called after her.

She turned to face him and raised her eyebrows, "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"You could say that. Is there any reason why you kept him waiting that long?"

"As I explained to you before, this is a busy hospital and I don't have time to mollycoddle him. Is that all you wanted."

"Excuse me," Al said shocked by her attitude. "Sam's your patient, not a distraction from whatever it is you think you should be doing. He's called for you twice in the time you've been here and both times you've treated him like he was pulling you away from something more important. I thought it was your job to take care of you patients."

"If you don't like the way I'm treating him…"

"Sam, his name is Sam not he and not him," Al corrected her. "He is a person, you know, not just some case or something."

"If you don't like the way I'm treating **him**," she reiterated as if Al hadn't spoken, "feel free to take it up with the nursing supervisor." She walked away before Al had a chance to frame a reply.

"What was that all about?" Margie asked coming out of the room near Sam's.

"How do I get in touch with the nursing supervisor?" Al asked not bothering to answer her question.

"She's not in on Sunday's," Margie explained. "She'll be in tomorrow, though. Hang on a sec and I'll get her number for you."

Al waited outside Sam's room and watched Margie go to the nurse's station in the middle of the floor and scribble the number down on a slip of paper. The look Kelly threw her led Al to believe that Kelly wasn't exactly any more popular with the rest of the nursing staff than she was with the patients.

"Here you go," she said walking back over and giving the paper to Al. "She should be in anytime after 9:00 tomorrow." She started to walk away then added as an after-thought, "I'll try to keep a lookout if I see Sam's light go on."

"Thanks," Al said before going back into Sam's room.


	42. Chapter 42

Sam watched Al hurry out the door before he had a chance to call him back. In his opinion it wouldn't do any good to confront the nurse, he'd learned her name was Kelly; regarding how long it took her to respond. Sam held the nursing profession in high regard and had met many good nurses both during his internship at Mass General and now that he was a patient. He'd also met one or two like Kelly during his internship and knew there wasn't a lot that would change her attitude. With any luck this would be the only time he'd see her before he got discharged.

He waited patiently for Al to come back and was thankful he couldn't hear any shouting out in the hall. Either Al had kept his temper in check or he'd taken her somewhere where he could hide the body. Sam hoped it was the former.

When he felt something tickle his upper lip he reached up to rub it. "Damn," he said when he brought his hand down and saw the smear of red on it. He pulled the canula from his nose and reached for the box of tissues grabbing a handful of them and wadding them up under his nose. He moved the bed so that he was sitting completely upright and leaned his head forward pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger and held it that way as he breathed through is mouth.

Al came back into the room just as Sam was pulling the handful of bloodied tissues away from his nose.

"Jesus, Sam" he said rushing over the bed. "What the hell happened?"

"Nosebleed," Sam said and managed to grab Al by the wrist just before he went running back into the hall to call for someone.

"It's ok," he tried to assure Al as he held the tissues to his nose again and squeezed.

"The hell it is," Al hotly and grabbed for the call bell pushing it repeatedly.

"Al," Sam said, his voice distorted because of pinching his nose. "It's ok, it's 'cause of the oxygen." He pulled the tissues away again and sniffed experimentally. "It's stopped," he told Al. "It's just because they've had me on oxygen, it's nothing to get alarmed about."

The last part of Sam's statement was overlapped by Kelly pushing open the door and asking what he wanted now.

Al turned to look at her. "He's got a nosebleed," he told her talking over Sam who tried to tell her that it had stopped.

She grabbed the bloodied tissues from Sam's hand and used them to pinch and squeeze his nose. When she did, he quickly batted her hand away.

"I said it stopped," he told her irritably.

"Well your friend here seemed to think it hadn't. How long did it last?"

Sam shrugged, "Maybe about 5 minutes."

"Do you have a headache, any dizziness or anything like that right now or just before?" she asked.

"No," Sam answered. Since he was sure that the bleeding had stopped he leaned back against the pillow.

"It's most likely caused by the oxygen. You're on an as-needed basis for it so, since you seem to be breathing fine without it right now, don't put it back on. If you start to have trouble breathing or if it starts bleeding again, let us know." She tossed the handful of bloodied tissues in the trash and left the room.

"That's it?" Al asked out loud. "Call us if it happens again? She's not even going to do anything or let a doctor know."

"Al, calm down. Like she said, it's just from the oxygen. I've used it 3 out of the last 5 days and it can dry out the nasal passages. A nosebleed because of it isn't completely unheard of. Just let it go, ok?" Sam was rapidly tiring again and knew he didn't have what it would take to play referee between Al and the nurse.

"She's not even calling a doctor," Al pointed out again.

"I don't need one right now. I'm sure a notation will be made in my chart so the doctor will know. Just calm down, Al." Sam was so exhausted he was nearly begging at this point.

Seeing that Al still didn't look satisfied he hastened to further explain, "If she calls a doctor the most likely thing that's going to happen is that he's going to come when I'm asleep, wake me up, shine a light up my nose and see exactly what I said and tell me the same thing. Honestly, I can do without that right now. Please, just let it go."

"Ok, Sam, ok," Al finally conceded just as the phone began to ring. Yet again it was out of Sam's reach. Al almost laughed because it seemed like no matter where he put the phone he was always on the wrong side of the bed when it rang.

"Hello," he said answering it. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Beckett, he's right here. Hang on." Al handed Sam the phone. "It's your mom," he needlessly told him.

"Hi Mom, how are you doing?" Sam said in a rush.

"Oh, Sam, it's so good to hear your voice. I was so worried about you yesterday."

"I'm ok, Mom, don't worry."

"Don't lie to me, Sam. Al told me how sick you were yesterday. I'm not pleased that you and your sister, and Al all conspired to keep that from me. I'm your mother and I have a right to know how sick my son is."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam meekly agreed.

"How are you today?"

"Better," he told her.

"Samuel John," she chastised. "Stop trying to protect me. I want to know honestly how you are."

"Honest, Mom, I am better than I was yesterday." Sam chose to omit that he was still running a fever, albeit much lower than it had been the day before.

"Really?" Thelma question. "How high is your temperature?"

Sam had to stop and think about the answer to that question and realized that he honestly didn't know. "I have no idea, Mom." Before could chastise him for trying to protect her again he hastened to add, "I've been asleep the last few times they've checked and I really don't know."

"102.3," Al piped up from where he stood looking out the window.

"Huh?" Sam asked.

"It was 102.3 when Attila checked a couple of hours ago," Al clarified.

"Oh, thanks." He directed his attention back to his mother on the other end of the phone. "Al said it was 102.3 a couple of hours ago. I honestly do feel a lot better, Mom, just really tired. You still haven't told me how you are."

"Obviously better than you," Thelma told him with a little chuckle. "They're letting me go home tomorrow. I wanted to get on a plane and fly out to Washington but everyone's vetoed that."

"Well, I'm with everyone else. It's too soon for you to fly across the country." Sam pulled the receiver away and tried to muffle a short cough with his hand.

"Oh, Sam, I really wish I could be there with you," Thelma told him once he'd stopped coughing.

"I know, Mom." He had to pull the phone away when he was interrupted by another cough. It seemed the more he talked the more the cough was triggered.

"Sorry," he said once he had the cough in hand.

"You need to rest, Sam. I don't want to keep you; I just wanted to hear your voice."

"No, it's ok, Mom," Sam tried to comfort. "Really, I'm ok. All I've done all day is sleep."

"That may be true but you sound exhausted right now. I want you to hang up now and get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow when I get home."

"Ok, Mom. You should get some rest, too or they might change their minds. I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy. Now give the phone to Al so I can talk to him."

"You mean so you can check up on me," Sam corrected her.

"Just do it, Sam," she told him in her "mother" voice.

"Yes, Ma'am" Sam obediently replied. He held the phone in Al's direction, "She wants to talk to you."

Once Al had taken the phone from him Sam barely paid any attention to Al's end of the conversation. The short time he'd been talking on the phone had tired him out more than he wanted to admit. He put down the bed and got himself as comfortable as he could with the intention of taking a nap before his dinner arrived. He was already half-asleep when he heard Al hang up the phone.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder followed by Al speaking quietly. "Your dinner should be her soon."

"Mmmm…wake me when it gets here," Sam mumbled before surrendering to sleep.

Sam hadn't been sleeping for more than 15 -20 minutes when his dinner was brought in. On the one hand Al was loathed to wake him but he knew that it was important that Sam start eating again to build up his strength. He gently shook Sam's shoulder and called his name until his eyes finally blinked open.

"Huh? Wha's-a-matta?" Sam asked sleepily

"Nothing's the matter," Al told him. "I'm just waking you because your dinner's here."

"Dinner?"

"Yeah, dinner. You know, the last meal of the day." Al was always amused by how long it would take Sam to get up to speed when he first woke up.

It finally seemed to penetrate through to Sam just why Al had woken him up and raised himself into a sitting position while Al uncovered his dinner and then slid the table over the bed.

"Did I choose this?" Sam asked while poking experimentally at the baked chicken on his plate.

"Not exactly," Al answered while pulling the provided teabag out of its wrapper and dropping it into the cup of hot water provided. "You sort of fell asleep on me in the middle so I picked it for you. I think it was a choice of chicken or baked macaroni and cheese. I don't remember that being a particular favorite of yours."

"No, it's not," Sam assured him. He cut off a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth.

"How is it?" Al asked.

"Not too bad. I've had better but it'll do."

The two men talked kept up small talk while Sam was eating. Eventually Al noticed that the simple act of raising the fork with food from the plate to his mouth and then chewing was tiring Sam out.

"You ok, you need some help?" he asked after a while.

"No, I'm ok. I can do it Sam assured him." He took a few more bites before putting the fork down having eaten just a little more than half of what had been on the plate. He reached for the cup of juice that he'd been drinking with his meal but pulled his hand back quickly when he saw that it had started to shake again. "I can't believe just eating tires me out."

"Well, you need to start eating more so that you can build up your strength again," Al point out. "You want to try a little more of that?"

Sam eyed the plate skeptically. "Not really. I don't think I can eat anymore and keep it down."

"In that case," Al told him, "don't try." He didn't have any cause to think Sam was making an idle threat. As sick as he'd been it probably wouldn't take much to upset his stomach to the point of vomiting. "Why don't you at least drink the rest of that juice and the tea."

"Just the juice," Sam replied reaching for the cup again. This time he used both hands to steady it as he picked it up.

"You should drink the tea, too. You need to keep liquids in you."

"I don't want any tea and I have plenty of fluids going into me." Sam held his hand up so that Al could see the IV in it. "I have any more fluids going into me and I'm going to start floating away."

"Fine, have it your way," Al told him.

Al kept Sam company until someone came in to pick up his tray then he decided to go down to the cafeteria and see if he could find anything partially edible for his own dinner. "You want me to get you anything?' Al asked before leaving the room.

"Yeah, could you get me some more juice."

"I thought you weren't thirsty."

"No," Sam patiently replied, "I said I didn't want any tea. I don't want anything hot to drink."

Al held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. My mistake. I'll try to be right back."

On his way by the bed Al dropped the "Newsweek" he'd bought the previous night on the bed next to Sam where he could reach it. "Here, this might keep you entertained for a while."

"Thanks," Sam said as Al left the room.


	43. Chapter 43

Al stepped off the elevator on Sam's floor a half hour later. He'd decided it would just be easier to eat in the cafeteria than to juggle his food in Sam's room yet again. Immediately he noticed that the call light above Sam's room was lit but looking at the nurse's station saw neither Kelly nor any other nurse in sight.

He pushed open the door to Sam's room fractionally and peeked in to make sure he wouldn't be in the way but saw that Sam was alone in the room and looked distinctly uncomfortable. When he pushed the door open fully Sam's head spun around looking in the direction of the door expectantly.

"What's up, Sam?" Al asked as he came completely into the room.

"Nothing, Al. I just…uh…just needed the nurse, that's all."

Al watched as Sam squirmed uncomfortably in the bed and immediately figured out just why it was Sam needed the nurse. "How long ago did you ring?" he asked him. Based on the look on Sam's face and the way he kept shifting position Al had a feeling it had been a while.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "Maybe 5-10 minutes ago."

Al slammed the can of juice he'd been carrying down on the table. "That's unacceptable. Someone should have been in here before now."

"Yeah, I know. Look, can you go see if you can get someone – anyone," Sam nearly begged.

"There was no one out there when I just went by." Seeing the look of desperation on Sam's face Al added, "I'll go check again."

As he walked out the door he barely heard Sam mumble, "I've got to stop drinking so much water."

Al stuck his head out the door and looked in both directions but aside from another visitor there was no one in sight.

"There's still no one out there," he told Sam coming back into the room. "Look, I know you said you don't want me to help you with this," Al began carefully, "but it looks like I'm your only choice right now." When Sam looked like he'd refuse again Al added, "If you don't let me help I think your problems are gonna be a whole lot bigger and you're going to end up needing clean sheets on the bed."

"Ok, Al," Sam gave in. "Just this one time, though."

Al looked to the foot of the bed where the urinal had been hanging but not finding it there disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with it in his hand. He set it down on the bed and pulled the curtain so if someone came in Sam would still have some privacy.

"Ok, how do you want to do this, Sam?" When he'd had to help him the previous night, Sam had been so delirious and out of it that he hadn't been able to do anything for himself.

"Um, I can't really bend much yet, it still hurts so I'm kinda gonna need you to…uh…." The more Sam explained the redder he got.

"I get it, Sam," Al cut him off to try to save him some embarrassment. As gently as he could and trying to maintain as much of Sam's dignity as possible Al got the urinal in place. Once it was in place he pulled Sam's gown down so that he wouldn't feel as exposed but kept the blanket pulled down. He didn't think he had quite the dexterity necessary to get the blanket back out of the way without making a mess. "Ok, Sam, I'll give you a little privacy and you tell me when you're all set, ok."

Sam couldn't meet Al's eyes and his face was still stained a bright red. "Yeah, ok."

Al stepped out behind the curtain and headed for the bathroom. He figured Sam might want to clean up a little when he was done so he grabbed him a wet washcloth. If he was forced to admit it, Al was also a bit embarrassed by the situation. Somehow last night when Sam really hadn't been aware of what was happening it had been easier to help him. Now, with Sam fully conscious he found he was discomforted as well.

He was just walking back out of the bathroom with the washcloth in one hand and a towel in the other when he heard Sam call his name and quickly ducked back to the other side of the curtain. He dropped the washcloth and towel on the table. "All set?" he asked.

Sam wordlessly nodded his head.

Al took the urinal from Sam handed him the washcloth. "I thought you might want to wash up or something."

"Thanks." Sam quietly said taking it from him.

Al put the towel on the side of the bed where Sam could reach it. Once Sam was done he took the washcloth and towel from him setting them back on the table before pulling Sam's gown back down and pulling the covers over him. He grabbed the urinal as well as the washcloth and towel to take them to the bathroom. "They need to measure that," Sam quietly reminded.

"I know," Al responded.

He didn't get a chance to walk around the curtain before it was quickly snapped open. Kelly was on the other side and she didn't look very happy. "Just what do you think your doing?" she asked.

"Your job," Al hotly answered. "Do you know how long he'd been waiting for you to come in?"

"Well considering how long it took him to decide what to do last time I'm sure it really didn't make much of a difference."

Kelly snatched the urinal from Al's hand and stomped into the bathroom. He stared at her flabbergasted for a moment again shocked by her behavior. When she came back out of the bathroom he'd overcome the shock.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are and frankly I don't care but you have a responsibility to your patients and it seems to me you've been shirking it all day. If you think Sam or any other patient is calling you for help because they enjoy it you're nuts, lady."

Kelly brushed by Al and grabbed the chart off the foot of the bed to record the level of output into it. "I told you before, if you don't like the way I do my job take it up with the nursing supervisor. This is a hospital, not a five star hotel so if you don't like the service, tough."

Al opened his mouth to say something else but Sam, who had remained silent up to this point quietly cut him off. "Please, leave," he said looking pointedly at Kelly.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked looking at him. "I've got a job to do here and I'll leave when I'm done."

"No," Sam said his voice getting firmer, "you'll leave now because it's within my rights as a patient to ask you to. I'd like you to leave and not come back into this room tonight."

"I leave now and don't come back into this room just tell me who's going to bring in your meds or were you planning on having your friend take care of that too?"

"I'm sure one of the other nurses on duty right now can handle Mr. Beckett's care until shift change," an unexpected British voice said. Three heads snapped in the direction of the voice. Unbeknownst to them, Dr. Carruthers had come into the room as Kelly was pointing out that they weren't in a hotel.

"I believe you were requested to vacate the room Ms. Logan," Carruthers said with an arched eyebrow.

Kelly turned as white as her scrub top when she saw Carruthers and at his prompting quickly left without another word or a look back.

"I was on the floor and thought I'd drop by to see how you're faring today before I went off-shift, Mr. Beckett. It seems my timing couldn't have been better." Seeing the twin shocked looks on both Sam and Al's faces he added, "Come, come, gentlemen, I know we may not have gotten off to very good start and that you don't approve of my bedside manner, Admiral, but if there's one thing I won't tolerate is a patient's needs being shirked. It would seem that Ms. Logan has not been responding to Mr. Beckett's needs in an appropriate and timely manner."

Carruthers came the rest of the way into the room and picked up Sam's chart from the foot of the bed and gave it a cursory glance. "Good, I see your temperature has remained down and Dr. Gleason's switched you to an oral pain-reliever. I trust you're feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam answered hesitantly still a bit surprised that Carruthers had sided with him. "I'm just pretty wiped-out right now."

"Well, that's to be expected and it'll be that way for a while." Carruthers said pointedly. He may have sided with Sam in the matter of Kelly but it certainly didn't mean he'd lost any of his abrupt bedside manner. "The human body just can't bounce back from the trauma you've had. There's not much you can do about it besides just waiting." He re-hung the chart on the foot of the bed and started to walk out of the room before Al stopped him.

"Doc, he had a nosebleed earlier. Is that anything to worry about?" Al made it a point to studiously ignore the irritated look from Sam when he asked.

Al's question stopped Carruthers dead in his tracks. "You had a nosebleed earlier? Was another doctor in here to check you?"

Sam shrugged slightly, "No, I just figured it was from the oxygen. The nurse seemed to think so, too."

"Mr. Beckett, you've been on Coumadin, a blood thinner, since surgery. Nosebleeds can very much be a symptom that the dosage is too high. A doctor should have been notified as soon as it happened." Carruthers grabbed the chart off the bed again giving it more than just a cursory glance this time.

Al noticed that Sam had turned even whiter if possible at Carruthers words. "So this could be something serious then?" he asked.

Carruthers hung the chart back up before answering. "It could be although it's just as likely that it was caused by the use of oxygen. I'm going to order some additional blood tests to be done as soon as possible to make sure his blood isn't being thinned too much. In the meantime I'll send another nurse in to make sure you're taken care of."

"Thank," Sam mumbled.

After the door had closed behind Carruthers Al looked back to Sam who still seemed stunned at Carruthers words. "Sam, you ok?" he asked.

"I should have known that," Sam mumbled. "How could I have forgotten?"

"It's not your job to remember," Al chastised.

"I still should have known," Sam insisted.

"Maybe," Al conceded, "but so shouldn't Kelly have known and it's her job to look out for those things. She's the one who should have made sure a doctor was called in right away, not you so don't go beating yourself up about this. As sick as you've been it's perfectly normal that you wouldn't think of everything.

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

"No guessing Sam, you know I'm right." Al quickly changed the subject to try to break Sam from the funk he was falling into. "Now, was that the same nozzle who wanted to tie you up the other night?"

Sam shrugged in answer, "Maybe he's not as bad as we thought."

"Yeah, or maybe he finally got lucky and it gave him a personality adjustment."

Sam and Al were saved from further speculation on Carruthers apparent change in attitude when Margie appeared in the room. The first thing she did was re-set the call bell since it hadn't been done.

"I hope you don't mind me taking care of you for the rest of the day," she asked Sam with a smile.

"No, not at all," Sam reassured her.

She grabbed the blood pressure cuff from it's basket on the wall and wrapped it around Sam's upper arm. "I'm sorry about earlier," she said seriously. "You shouldn't have had to wait as long as you did. Kelly's behavior has been inexcusable. I probably shouldn't say anything since she is a co-worker but she really doesn't belong here."

"Don't worry about it," Sam reassured her. "It's not your fault at all."

Margie finished checking Sam's vitals. When she'd pulled the thermometer from his ear Al asked what his temperature was.

"It's 102.6 right now," she told him before writing it down in his chart.

"It's going up again," Al said worried.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Margie told him. "It's normal for body temperature to rise later in the day. It doesn't necessarily mean he's getting sicker again." Margie hung the chart back up on the bed. "Anything else I can get for you right now, Sam?" she asked.

"Uh, I have a little bit of a headache. Could I get something for it?" he asked her.

"Sure, let me just check and see when you got your last pain meds. I'm sure it's ok for you to take some Tylenol, though. I'll be right back."

At the mention of a headache Al's body tensed up slightly. "You sure you're ok, Sam? Maybe we should see if Dr. Carruthers can come back and check you out a little better."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because I have a headache?"

"Because you have a headache and because you had a nosebleed earlier which he seemed to think was important," Al clarified.

"Oh," Sam said understanding why Al had tensed up. "Trust me, Al, the two aren't connected at all even if the nosebleed is from the Coumadin. It's just a simple tension headache."

Al was about to question whether Sam was sure but stopped himself. He didn't want him to start beating himself up again.

"Did you happen to get me that juice," Sam asked. "I'm still thirsty and I'm getting a little tired of water."

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah it's right…where did I put it?" Al finally located the can of juice and opened it up pouring some into a cup for Sam. As he was handing the cup to Sam, Margie came back in the room with two Tylenol and Sam swallowed them with the juice.

She'd no sooner left before a lab technician came in the room and quickly drew the blood needed to run the tests that Dr. Carruthers had ordered.

"I'm starting to know what a pin cushion feels like," Sam commented once the technician had left. "At least he was able to find a vein on the first try." Sam's arms bore a collection of bruises from when a slightly less-experienced technician had drawn blood the previous day. She'd had trouble finding a vein and had had to jab Sam several times before she was successful.

"As much as they keep taking out of you they're going to have to start pumping it back in soon," Al commented.

Al waited until it seemed as if the Tylenol was doing its job against Sam's headache. "You feel up to doing those breathing exercises?" he asked. "You haven't really done them much."

After Rob had initially shown Sam how to do the breathing exercises the previous night he hadn't been in any condition to try it again. Today he'd only done it one or two times having slept most of the day away.

"Yeah, sure," Sam answered. "Where'd it go?"

"Here you go," Al said handing him the spirometer. "Nice and slow now," he encouraged.

Again when Sam did the five breaths he wasn't able to reach the point that had been set. Unlike the previous night, though, all five had reached the same level without falling off. Once he'd finished using the spirometer Al encouraged him to take some deep breaths and cough as Rob had instructed.

The breathing exercises tired Sam out even more than he already was and it was soon after he'd finished them that his eyes started to drift shut. After the third time Sam's head lsited to the side and he quickly jerked it back up Al started to laugh. "Give it up, Sam, before you give yourself a stiff neck. Just go to sleep."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I guess so." He squinted at the clock opposite him. "Why don't you head out, Al. I know you didn't get much sleep last night and you must be exhausted." When Al seemed ready to protest Sam hastily added, "I'll be able to sleep a lot better if I know you're not sitting there exhausted watching me sleep."

"Ok, Sam. I am pretty beat. Is there anything I can get for you before I leave?" Al asked as he stood and started to pull on his coat.

Sam grabbed the cup of water looking into. "Would you mind just getting me some water?"

"Sure, Kid." Al filled the cup with water from the pitcher putting them both on the table making sure they were in Sam's reach. He also put the remote for the TV on the table as well in case Sam found himself awake and looking for a little entertainment.

"Ok, Sam, I'll see you tomorrow morning. If you need anything during the night – and I mean anything – you call me or have Emily call me."

"I will, Al. Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too, Kid," he said before patting Sam gently on the arm and leaving.

Al lucked out again and was able to catch a taxi right away after leaving the hospital. Most of the ride back to the hotel was an exhausted blur and when he got into the room he just managed to get his clothes off before falling on the bed and slipping into a deep sleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He wasn't aware of anything until the sun coming through the window the next morning nudged him to wakefulness.


	44. Chapter 44

It wasn't long after Al left before Sam had drifted off into a deep sleep and stayed that way for the next couple of hours. He was unaware of anyone coming into the room for vitals checks or of a shift change with the nursing staff. When he did wake up he felt as if he'd been asleep for far longer than he actually had been and was disappointed to see that it was still dark outside.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and figure out what it was that had woken him. The recurrence of the painful cramp in his leg quickly solved the riddle for him. He waited for a while hoping the pain would pass but it hung on steadily until he finally gave in and rang for a nurse.

His call was promptly answer by Emily. "Can I get you anything, Sam?" she asked approaching the bed.

"I was wondering if I could get anything for pain?" he asked her.

"Sure. It's been quite a while since you last had anything. I'll be right back."

While she was gone Sam grabbed the string that turned the light over the bed on and off and pulled it on. Someone had thoughtfully left it looped around the safety rail so that he'd have access to it. He wasn't at all happy when he looked across to the clock and saw that it was only a little after 11:30. There was a long time to go before morning came and right now he didn't even feel tired. He had the distinct impression that it was going to be a long night.

After Emily had come and gone with the pain pill Sam grabbed the remote from the table where Al had left it and turned on the TV, keeping the volume on it low in deference to other patients on the floor. Even though he was in the room by himself and the door was closed he knew that sound tended to travel further in a hospital at night.

Mindlessly he flipped through the available channels but, as could be expected for the time of night, there was really nothing on. He finally settled on a late night showing of "War of the Worlds", though his mind really wasn't on it. The Percoset soon gave him a groggy feeling but Sam wasn't finding it easy to fall back asleep. He sat staring at the TV for the next hour hoping in vain that he would eventually find sleep again.

When Emily came back into the room at 1:00 with Sam's next dose of antibiotics he was still awake. "You should be sleeping," she admonished him.

"I'd like nothing better but after sleeping all day my body seems to have other ideas," Sam answered with a small smile. "I thought the pain med would knock me back out but that doesn't seem to be happening."

Emily finished hanging the bag of IV antibiotics and hooking it up to the port in Sam's hand. "I can get you something to help you sleep," she offered. "Dr. Gleason left an order for a sleeping pill for you if you needed it. He wants to make sure you're getting a good night's sleep."

Sam thought about Emily's offer before answering. "Not right now," he declined. "I'll give it another little bit and see if I can fall asleep on my own. I'd rather not keep taking more and more meds if I can avoid it."

"Ok," Emily agreed skeptically. "Just keep in mind it's important to your recovery that you're getting rest."

"I will," Sam assured her.

Emily softly patted Sam on the forearm. "Well if you change your mind or if you need anything you just ring and let me know."

Sam fought the battle for sleep for another hour but when the late, late movie started and he was still no closer to falling asleep he finally gave in and rang.

"Sorry to bother you," he said when he saw Emily's silhouette in the doorway. "I think I better take that sleeping pill or I'm never going to fall asleep."

"It's not bother at all, Sam. I've just been waiting for you to give in. I'll be right back with it."

Within 15 minutes of taking the sleeping pill Sam started to feel the effects of it and finally drifted off to sleep. When Emily came in to check on him a short while later she found the TV still on and the remote still in Sam's hand. She eased it gently from his grasp being careful not to wake him and turned off the TV. After straightening the covers over the bed she pulled the light off and quietly left the room.


	45. Chapter 45

Al was just getting out of the shower when the phone rang the next morning. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and ran to answer it. "Calavicci," he answered.

"Al, it's Sam"

"Hey, Sam, how's things?" he asked. He quickly flashed back to the morning phone call of a couple of days ago from Sam and made it a point not to assume something had gone wrong.

"Good, Al. Look, can you do me a favor when you come today?"

"Sure, what do you need, Kid?"

"Do you mind bringing my shaving kit with you? I haven't had a decent shave in a while and it's starting to drive me crazy."

"Sure thing. How was your night?" Al asked. Sam sounded tired to him and he was hoping it wasn't because he'd had a bad night. He'd left a request that if that were the case that he wanted to be called.

"I've had better," Sam told him. "I think because I've been sleeping so much I'm getting day and night confused and I had some trouble sleeping last night."

"Oh, why didn't you call me?" Al asked. "I told you to call me if you needed anything."

"I know but what were you going to do? Read me a bedtime story? I was able to get something to help me sleep eventually."

"Well, you still sound tired," Al pointed out.

"I've got a feeling it might be that way for a while. Look, Al, I gotta go. Dr. Gleason just got here."

"Ok, Sam. I'll see you in a little bit and I'll bring your shave kit with me."

"Ok, Al. Thanks and bye."

Once Al had hung up he headed back to the bathroom to finish drying off from his shower and to get dressed. He was forced to spend another day taking a page from the Beckett fashion book. With any luck the stuff that Tina was sending would get there sometime tomorrow.

Dried and dressed Al headed down to the small restaurant in the basement of the hotel for some breakfast. If Dr. Gleason was in to see Sam right now he figured he'd have some time to actually sit down and eat breakfast this morning before rushing out to the hospital. Since it seemed like Sam was finally on the upswing and on the mend he figured he wouldn't have to be off rushing to the hospital at the same pace he'd been keeping up the past couple of days.

-------------------

When Al got to Sam's room later in the morning he immediately became aware of three things. First was the absence of a particular sound, the gurgling of plurevac unit. The second thing he noticed was that Sam was again sitting up in the chair by the bed but this time instead of the pained look he'd had the last time he'd been up he only looked mildly discomforted. The last thing he noticed was the lack of the bulky leg brace under the sheet tucked around Sam.

"Hey, Sam, you're looking a whole lot better than you have been," Al told him walking into the room.

"Hey, Al," Sam greeted him with a smile. "I'm feeling a lot better too. Dr. Gleason clamped off the chest tube when he was in earlier and provided nothing goes wrong with it today he said he'll take it out tomorrow."

"That's great. I'm betting you'll be glad to get that thing out of you." Al put Sam's shave kit down on the table as he walked by and sat down in the chair opposite him. "Looks like things are really starting to improve now."

"You can say that again. He also had the lab results from the blood they drew last night and everything checks out fine. The nosebleed wasn't because of the Coumadin.

"That's good hear," Al told him visibly relieved.

"Dr. Childs was in right after Dr. Gleason and she took the brace off my leg. I'm going to start physical therapy later today and if the chest tube comes out tomorrow she said there's no reason why I can't start trying to get up and walk tomorrow as well." Despite the fatigue and some discomfort Sam's happiness at finally getting good news and being on the mend clearly shown through and Al found it contagious.

"Hey, that's great. Before you know it you'll be out of here and we'll be on our way back to New Mexico."

"It can't happen fast enough for me," Sam told him.

Diane, who'd been stripping down and making Sam's bed, took that as her cue to pipe in, "Hey, I thought you liked it here with us. I've got to say, I'm truly hurt." Her smile gave away the joke.

"Well," Sam began continuing the joke, "I can't complain much about the service, it is pretty prompt but I'm not so sure about the décor and the food, well, it could use a lot of work."

"I'll be sure to let the chef know," Diane said with laugh as she gathered up the sheets she'd stripped from the bed. "You look like you're doing pretty good sitting there so I'm going to take this out and get rid of it. If you need anything before I get back just ring, ok?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Diane."

Noticing Sam's shave kit on the table as she walked out Diane stopped and turned back. "Remember," she said gesturing to it, "you don't do this yourself. You're not steady enough yet."

"Is it ok if Al helps me?" Sam asked.

"Sure, that should be fine," she answered and then left the room.

"What's the matter? Al joked. "You're not old enough to play with sharp objects yet?"

"No. I'm still not very steady yet." Sam held up his hand which trembled slightly to prove his point. "There's a better chance I'll cut myself which isn't such a good idea while I'm on Coumadin. Bleeding tends to not clot as quickly."

"Oh, great so what are you trying to tell me, I knick you and you're going to bleed to death."

"That's it exactly," Sam dead-panned. "So you better be careful."

It took just a second before it sunk in to Al that Sam was joking with him and wasn't being serious.

"Good one, Sam but if you were planning on starting a career in comedy, I wouldn't give up my day job if I were you." Al stood up and grabbed Sam's shave kit off the table he'd left it on and rolled the over bed tray closer to where Sam was sitting. "So, you wanna do this now or wait 'til you get back in bed?"

"Now's fine." Sam reached up to rub his face. "I'll be happy to get rid of this."

"Oh, I don't know," Al said looking at him critically. "I think the scruffy-look suits you. The women would probably agree with me, too. It kind of gives you that more grown-up look."

"Oh, ha, ha funny and you're telling me not to give up my day job."

"Hey, don't knock it, Sam. That scruffy-look combined with your injuries could be a gold mine. You could have more women than you know what to do with."

"Al," Sam tried to chastise but instead he started to chuckle. It felt good to laugh for a change.

Al joined in Sam's laughter relieved that after so many trying days to finally have reason to laugh – even if the reason was pretty thin.

"I'm gonna go get some water in the bathroom. You just sit tight and I'll be right back."

When Al got back from the bathroom with the basin of warm water as well as a washcloth and towel Sam had brought his laughter under control, as had Al. It was a good thing or it could have been almost a guarantee that Sam would have ended up with more than just a knick.

Al dipped the washcloth in the basin of water and wrung it out before handing it to Sam then pulled the necessary implements out of Sam's shave kit. When Sam was done using the washcloth to wet his face Al exchanged it for the can of shave cream. "Here, I think you can handle this without causing any bloodshed."

Sam grabbed the can from Al and squirted some in his hands and then began to spread it on his face. "It feels weird doing this without a mirror," he commented.

"Not as weird as it feels shaving someone else's face." Al answered back.

As soon as he touched the razor to Sam's face he felt him stiffen up. "Relax, Kid, I'm not gonna slit your throat."

Sam waited until Al pulled the razor away before speaking. "I'm sure you're not. I'd just feel a whole lot better if I were the one in control."

As soon as Al touched his face with the razor again Sam lapsed back into silence.

"You know, this isn't the first time I've had to help someone shave," Al commented when he was about half done.

Sam didn't dare answer or move any part of his face while Al still held the razor against him and again waited until Al was rinsing the razor in the basin of water before he said anything. "So who'd you have to help before this?" he asked.

"There was this guy in the next bed over from me when I was still in the VA when I got back from 'Nam. Both his arms had been blown off when his buddy tripped a landmine. He was damned lucky to still be alive although I'm not sure he agreed. Anyway, I helped him out a couple of times when the ward was a little crazy. It's kind of like riding a bike once you get the hang of it again." Al rinsed the razor off in the water one more time and then handed Sam the washcloth to rinse the dregs of the shaving cream from his face. "You're all set."

"Thanks," Sam said exchanging the washcloth for the towel and drying off his face. "Now if they ever let me take a shower I'll actually start feeling human again."

"Give it time. You need to lose all of your leashes before they're gonna let you do that." Al gathered up the basin of water, washcloth and towel and walked toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna go put this stuff back in the bathroom."

"You still doing ok, there?" Al asked when he came out of the bathroom.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "It doesn't seem as bad as it was on Friday. I think I can stay here for a little while longer."

"Good," Al responded handing Sam the spirometer. "Start blowing, then."

Sam took the spirometer for him but didn't immediately start the breathing exercises. "You're going to be a real task master now, aren't you?"

Al didn't answer, just gave Sam an evil grin.

"I thought so," Sam said. "It's inhalations, by the way, not exhalations so I'm not really blowing into it," he pointed out correcting Al.

"Whatever, just do it."

Again, Al encouraged Sam through the breathing exercises and this time he came a lot closer to hitting the mark. At the rate he was going Al thought he'd probably be able to hit the mark set on the device by the next day.

"You're doing better with it," he told Sam taking the spirometer from him when he was done. "Don't forget the deep breaths and cough."

"How could I forget anything with you here to remind me?" Sam asked dryly before taking the deep breaths and coughing as Al had reminded him.

The two men sat and talked for nearly 45 minutes before Sam seemed to start tiring out. It disheartened Al that even though Sam seemed to be making progress today it still didn't take much before his body reached its limits. Getting up he reached for the call bell still attached to the bed. "You're looking tired again. I'm going to get someone to help you back to bed."

"I'm ok, Al. I can stay up a little longer," Sam tried to argue.

"I'm sure you probably can, Sam, but if you're having physical therapy later you should probably get some rest now so you're fresh for it," Al reason with him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam conceded.

Although Sam was able to move more easily than he had before, getting him from the chair to the bed was still a carefully orchestrated maneuver since care still had to be taken because of the chest tube that was still in place and the IV running into the back of his hand as well as the wires leading to the heart monitor.. Once he was re-settled back in bed Diane re-clipped the oxygen saturation monitor on his finger.

"How much longer am I going to need these?" Sam asked indicating both the oxygen saturation monitor as well as the heart monitor.

"Until the doctor gives us the ok we need to keep you wired up for sound," she explained. "I'm guessing he'll probably discontinue them if he takes out the chest tube out tomorrow. Why don't you try to rest up for a little while now? Your lunch should be up in about an hour or so and someone from PT will be up early this afternoon."

Sam didn't get much chance to rest before there was a timid knocking on the door. "Come in," he called out when no one immediately came through the door.

The door slowly opened to admit a young woman dressed in a candy-striper's uniform carrying a box. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said. "This was just delivered for you." She handed Sam the box and started to back up towards the door.

"Thank you," Sam said taking the box from her.

"Can I get you any juice or water or anything?" she shyly asked.

"No, thank you, I'm all set."

"Well, ok then." The young woman beat a hasty retreat out of the room.

"I think you scared her or something, Sam," Al commented.

"She's probably just new and still nervous," Sam said. He tried to pull the plain brown wrapping off the box but was hampered by the o2 sat clip as well as the IV going into his left hand. "I think I need a hand" he finally said looking up to Al.

"Sure." Al grabbed the box from Sam and quickly tore the brown wrap off it and handed Sam the card that was taped to the top of the box and put the box back down on the side of the bed.

Sam pulled the card from the envelope flipping it open and read the inside of it. "It's from Mom," he told Al before putting the card down and pulling up the lid of the box and looking inside. When he saw what was in the box he started to laugh softly.

"What is it?" Al asked.

Sam pulled the object from the box and showed it to Al. It was a teddy bear with honey-colored fur. "When I was a kid," Sam explained, "I had a teddy bear just like this. It went everywhere with me." Sam peered closely at the teddy bear, specifically at the tag attached to it that had the initials "SJB" scrawled on it in faded black marker. "Oh, wow," he exclaimed his eyes getting bigger. "This is the same one I had as a kid." He pointed to the tag with his initials on it, "Mom put my initials on it when we went to some family reunion thing when I was about 4 so that I wouldn't lose him."

Al took the card from off the bed and read the inside of it:

_Sam, just in case you need an old friend to keep you company at night and share your secrets. I wish I could be with you now. I love you, Mom._

"I haven't thought about Bear in a long time. I didn't even know Mom still had him."

"Bear? You called your teddy bear Bear?" Al asked trying to suppress his laughter.

"I got him for my first birthday. I wasn't really creative at naming things then." Sam affectionately rubbed the top of the teddy bear's head before reaching over and propping it up on the table beside the bed.

Al grabbed the box off the bed and set it aside out of the way. "You want me to put this with the rest of the cards you got?" Al asked holding up the card.

After word of Sam's accident had gotten out get-well cards had started to come in the mail immediately. Al had been hanging them on the corkboard opposite the bed under the clock to give Sam something to look at besides just a blank wall. In addition to the cards, Sam had also been sent quite a few flowers but due to the pneumonia they hadn't been allowed in his room. He'd asked that they be given to other patients who could appreciate them.

"I think I'll keep this one here," Sam told Al as he took the card back from him. He reached to pull the over bed table near him and slid back the top of it back and slipped the card into the storage space with keychain from his mother. "I think I want to keep this one close."

Sam slid the top of the table back into place just in time as his lunch was brought in to him. The same woman who'd brought his lunch in on Friday, Maria, was also delivering it today. She put it down on the table in front of Sam and pulled the cover off of it. "See, I tell you, you eat you get better," she told him with a smile. "I come back later."

Sam thanked her before she left the room.

"Oh, rabbit food," Al commented looking at the chef's salad Sam had been served.

"You should know since you're the one who picked it," Sam replied as he poured dressing over the salad.

"Hey, you're the one who conked out in the middle of choosing," Al defended himself.

"I think I can handle feeding myself today without spilling it all or falling asleep while I'm doing it. Why don't you go get yourself something for lunch" Sam suggested to Al.

Al hesitated for just a moment. He'd gotten so used to helping Sam the last couple of days that he was unsure he wouldn't need help again but seeing that Sam had lunch well in hand he finally conceded to get something for himself.

"Ok, Sam. I'm not sure I feel like braving the cafeteria so I think I'll run across the street. You need anything while I'm out?"

"No, I'm all set." Sam answered.

"Ok, I'll be right back then."

Al left the room with a feeling of trepidation. He tried to convince himself it was just a left over, pent up feeling from the last few days and that Sam would be perfectly fine while he was away but he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. He ran across the street as quickly as he could and impatiently stood in the long line in the deli. Since it was right across the street from the hospital it attracted both other visitors like himself as well as hospital staff. Finally he made his way to the front of the line and placed his order. He was forced to wait another 10 minutes until it was completed. Finally, with bag in hand, he made his way quickly back across the street and to the hospital all the while trying to convince himself that he was just imagining things and nothing had gone wrong in his absence.


	46. Chapter 46

Sam watched Al leave the room then went back to his lunch. Either he was starting to regain his appetite or, for a change, the food provided was actually pretty tasty. Whichever the case, he dug into the salad hungrily stopping every now and then to rip off a piece of the bread that came with it.

When he realized that the cup of water he had was nearly empty he turned and stretched reaching for the pitcher on the side table and smiled to himself in satisfied pleasure when he managed to grab it and refill the cup without any problems. He didn't notice when he put it back how close to the edge of the table it was.

He was just finishing the cup of fruit that had been provided for desert when Diane came in the room. "Good news, since this IV bag is finished I can disconnect you," she told him. She dropped some gauze pads and tape on the table next to the water pitcher.

"Dr. Gleason's discontinuing it?" Sam asked.

"For now. As long as you keep you fluid intake up it won't have to be restarted."

"What about the antibiotics?"

"Well, that's the downside. You'll get that through injections now. It's only three times a day so you won't feel too much like a pin cushion." Diane disconnected the IV tubing from the back of Sam's hand and hung it over the hook the IV was hanging from and then pulled the catheter from his hand. When she reached for the gauze pads to tape over the IV site she inadvertently hit the pitcher of water sending it crashing to the floor.

Both she and Sam made an abortive attempt to try to catch it before it landed but neither of them was able and watched as, after bouncing off the side of the bed, it hit the floor in a spreading puddle of water. Diane's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, oh I'm so sorry. That didn't get you wet did it?" she quickly asked.

"No," Sam assured her. "I just think the bottom of the sheet got a little wet."

Diane reached down and grabbed the trailing corner of the sheet which was, indeed, wet from the falling water.

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how close to the edge it was."

"Don't worry about it," Sam reassured her. "It's just an accident." Ruefully he reflected back to just a couple of days ago when he knocked over the same pitcher and had also been assured it was just an accident.

Diane finished taping the dressing in place over the IV site before she bent to pick up the water pitcher and its liner putting them back on the table. "I need to get a new sheet and blanket for you. I'll be right back," she said before hurrying from the room returning a short time later with a dry sheet and paper towels. She put the folded sheet on the foot of Sam's bed and knelt on the floor and began picking up the ice and deposited it in the wastebasket. Once she'd picked up all the ice she used the paper towels to blot up the water and dry the floor.

"I'm really am so sorry," she said again as she straightened up.

"Don't worry about," Sam once again reassured her.

She pushed the tray table out of the way and stripped the blanket and top-sheet of Sam. It wasn't until she'd spread the dry sheet over him that she'd realized she'd forgotten to also get a blanket.

"My mind must not be with me right now. I forgot to get you a blanket." She gathered up the wet sheet and blanket. "I'll go grab one right now and take these with me. I'll be right back."

As fast as Diane left the room Maria came in to get the Sam's lunch tray. Seeing her he thought he'd be helpful if he pulled the table back over the bed so she wouldn't have to walk around it. Unfortunately that meant that just as she reached over the bed rail to pick it up she stepped on the one piece of ice that had missed Diane's cleaning causing her foot to slide out from under her and for her to fall forward towards the bed.

Things seemed to happen all at once then. Maria's outstretched hand caught the edge of the lunch tray tipping it into Sam's lap. As he saw Maria's sudden loss of balance, Sam twisted to try to catch her before she could come down hard across the safety rail. As he twisted he felt a sharp ripping sensation across his abdomen but quickly dismissed it in an effort to try to catch Maria. At the same time the door to the room opened and Al walked in.

"What the hell's going on?" he loudly asked before dropping the bag in his hand and rushing over to the bed pulling Maria from on top of Sam and shoving her across the room. "What the hell are you doing to him?"

Diane came in to the room close on Al's heels and saw the chaos in the room. "Oh, God, it can't get any worse," she quietly said.

"Al! Al, it's ok," Sam said trying to distract Al's attention from the frightened Maria. At the same time he was picking the remains of his lunch off of his lap. "Al, she slipped and fell. She wasn't doing anything to me. Leave her alone."

Al didn't appear to hear Sam and kept demanding of Maria that she tell him what she was doing. In her fright she'd reverted to speaking her native Spanish.

"Al!" Sam called loudly sitting up in the bed wincing as he felt the tearing sensation again. As he sat up the sheet fell away from him revealing a spot of blood soaking through the gown.

Diane quickly took charge as soon as she saw the blood pushing Sam to lie flat and sliding the table out of the way. She hastily pulled the gown away from him and saw the blood soaking through dressing over the surgical incision. She pulled back the dressing to reveal the row of stitches across his abdomen. "It looks like you pulled a couple of these stitches." She grabbed some gauze pads from off the bedside table and pressed them against the incision and called Al over. "He pulled some stitches. Hold these in place while I get a doctor in here." While she ran out of the room Maria quietly grabbed the tray off the table and disappeared out the door behind her.


	47. Chapter 47

When the elevator finally stopped on Sam's floor Al nearly jumped out of it. It had stopped at every floor between the lobby and the 6th floor and he was just anxious to get off of it and get back to Sam's room and reassure himself that everything was fine and he'd just been imaging things.

As he walked up the corridor he saw Diane at the laundry cart pulling out a blanket and nodded a greeting to her on the way by. Finally he reached Sam's room and pushed opened the door only to see that his worst fears had been realized – or at least that's what it looked like. The woman, Maria, seemed to lunge at Sam. Al rushed across the room pulling, what he thought, was a homicidal maniac off of Sam and shoved her across the room demanding to know what she was doing.

The more Al yelled demanding to know the more frightened she became and she started speaking to him in frantic Spanish – a language he wasn't very fluent in. He was vaguely aware of Sam calling to him in the background telling him it was an accident. He was just turning to check on Sam when he loudly called his name and sat up. Al saw the spot of blood and again started demanding to know what Maria had done to him. He didn't stop yelling at her until Diane called him over to assist her.

He saw that she was holding some gauze pads over Sam's abdomen but there was no blood coming through them. He must not have been bleeding too badly. "He pulled some stitches," she quickly explained. "Hold these in place while I get a doctor in here."

As she let go of the gauze pads he quickly held them down applying some pressure. He was unaware of Maria quickly grabbing the tray off the table and following out the door.

"What the hell happened, Sam?" he asked anxiously.

Sam sighed. "It's a long story. Just trust me, no one was trying to hurt me."

"Then why are you bleeding?" Al asked putting a little too much pressure on the gauze pads.

"Ah, not so hard," Sam told him, "and can you pull the sheet up a little. I'd rather not be on display."

Al released some of the pressure and pulled the sheet up as far as Sam's hips. "You still haven't told me what happened."

"Yes, I'd like to know what happened as well," Dr. Gleason said coming into the room with Diane.

"Maria slipped and lost her balance. I tried to catch her before she could fall and I guess I twisted around too fast." Sam explained. "Rambo here," Sam continued gesturing to Al, "decided she was trying to kill me or something and came running to the rescue and that's it."

"Not quite it," Dr. Gleason said. "Let's not forget that you managed to tear out some of my handiwork. We're going to have to replace those. Can you get me a suture kit," he asked turning to Diane.

She quickly left the room returning momentarily with the necessary items. "I'm going to have to ask you leave the room until we're all done," Dr. Gleason said to Al.

"Yeah sure, I'll be right outside."

Al left the room and leaned on the wall across from the door. He was feeling more than a little stupid for automatically assuming Maria had been trying to hurt Sam. Momentarily, when he'd opened the door, he'd thought it was the driver of the car in Sam's dream who'd come back to finish the job. The next time he saw the woman he'd have to make sure he apologized to her – that is if she'd even come close to him again. At least, he comforted himself, he hadn't done anything completely stupid like hitting her.

When Diane came out of the room later she was carrying the tray of instruments in one hand and the brown bag his lunch was in in the other. "I think you dropped this," she said as she handed it to him. "Dr. Gleason's all set if you want to go back in."

"Thanks," he said before slipping through the door.

"So," Al said trying to sound nonchalant when he got in the room, "is everything ok?"

Dr. Gleason was making notes in Sam's chart and looked up at Al's question. "Aside from having to repair my previous work, it's all good."

"Oh good, good." Al slanted a quick look towards Sam who was sitting silently in the bed but couldn't figure out what he was thinking from his expression. "So, uh, this isn't going to be a setback or anything, is it?"

Dr. Gleason flipped the chart closed and hung it back up. "No, this shouldn't cause any kind of setback," he told Al before turning his attention to Sam. "Provided you avoid any other sudden moves or twisting you shouldn't have any more problems. Now, unless you're feeling the need to try any other contortions and rip anything else out, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Al watched Dr. Gleason leave and turned back to Sam. The look on his face was still unreadable and Al started to squirm. "I'm…uh…sorry about that, Sam. I really thought you were in trouble. I thought it was that woman you dreamed about coming back to finish the job."

Sam continued to stare silently at Al while he explained his behavior.

"C'mon, Sam, don't just sit there giving me the silent treatment. Say something," Al finally begged.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam quietly asked.

Al continued to hang when Diane came back into the room with yet another top sheet for the bed as well as a blanket and clean gown for Sam. She also brought him in a dosage of his pain meds explaining that the physical therapist would be up soon and it would be easier on him if he had the pain meds first.

Al continued to stand at the foot of the bed fidgeting like a child called to the principal's office until she'd finished and left the room.

"I'm sorry," Al finally said.

Al's apology finally broke through to Sam and he put his head down and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders started to hitch up and down quickly and Al was certain he'd finally pushed Sam too far. "Sam," he said with concern coming up the head of the bed and resting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam raised his head and Al saw that instead of being upset like he'd expected, Sam was laughing.

"You think this is funny?" Al asked in surprise.

Al's question spurred Sam to laugh even harder. He crossed his arms across his middle to support his broken ribs while tears started to fall down his face. He was laughing so hard he could barely talk.

"What's so funny?" Al asked.

"You should have seen your face," Sam finally gasped out. "I think you nearly scared the poor woman to death."

"Well, I thought she was trying to hurt you," Al weakly defended himself. Sam's laughter finally proved contagious and Al started to chuckle a bit as well. "I guess it was a little funny."

Sam finally pulled himself back under control wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hands. "She wasn't hurt when she fell, was she?" Sam asked sobering up.

"No," Al answered. I think I just scared the living daylights out of her. "How'd she end up on top of you anyway?"

"I guess you could say it was sort of a comedy of errors. I put the pitcher to close to the edge of the table and Diane knocked it down when she was taking care of the IV. She must have missed a piece of ice or some water or something and Maria slipped on in and I tried to catch her before she fell," Sam explained.

"And that's where I came in and thought she was attacking you and…"

"Did your Rambo impression," Sam finished. "Listen, Al, when the physical therapist gets here she might actually cause me some pain. Don't go body blocking her across the room, ok? What did you get for lunch?" Sam asked indicating the bag Al still held.

"Huh? Oh, corned beef on rye." Al reached into the bag and pulled the sandwich out. "I guess it got a little squished," he said. He sat down and unwrapped the sandwich and started to eat it despite it's less than pristine condition. "You gonna be up to physical therapy after pulling those stitches?"

"Sure. Dr. Gleason said it's fine and it's really not hurting. The lidocaine's still keeping it kind of numb."

Al was just getting ready to take a bit out of his sandwich when he noticed the bandage on Sam's hand and the lack of an IV running into it. "Hey, where'd the IV go? Did something happen to it?" he asked

"Calm down, Al. Dr. Gleason decided I didn't need it anymore. Diane was just pulling it out when the water pitcher fell and started everything. I don't need it anymore and they can give me the antibiotic by injection. It's just one less thing keeping me tied to the bed. Now if I can just get rid of everything else…" Sam trailed off as he fingered the chest tube that was still in place.

"It's just another day, Sam, and you should get rid of that one, too. By the way, what's your temperature been at today?"

"Uh, I think Diane said it was 100.5 the last time she checked. Relax," he continued seeing the worried look on Al's face. "It's a low grade fever. It's not going to go down to normal over night."

Al had just finished his sandwich and was throwing the wrapper and bag away when the door to the room opened admitting a woman neither had met. He assumed she must be the physical therapist. She approached the bed and put her hand out to Sam, "Hi, I'm Joanna Barker, but everyone just calls me Jo. I'm going to be working with you on your physical therapy. Do you mind if I call you Sam?"

"No, that's fine," Sam answered.

"Good. And you are?" she asked turning to Al.

"Oh, I'm a friend of Sam's. Al Calavicci." Al returned her handshake and already found himself liking her as a choice for Sam's physical therapist based on her forthright manner.

"Ok, Sam, I've reviewed your chart and I've seen your latest round of x-rays. Normally by now we'd have you up on your feet already but your little bout with pneumonia's put you behind on your pt and until the chest tube comes out it's still going to limited. What we're going to do today is work on some range of motion exercises. Your surgery involved cutting some of the bigger muscles of the body so it's going to take a little work to get them stretched out and moving again and, unfortunately, a little pain. When's the last time you had any pain meds."

"About 15-20 minutes ago," Sam answered.

"Good, so they should be working by now."

Sam nodded to indicate that he was feeling the effect of the Percoset.

"A lot of what I'm going to do with you today you can work on by yourself as well. The more you're working on these muscles the quicker you're going to be up and walking without any assistance. You might need some help with some of the exercise. Al, do you think this is something you'd be willing to help Sam with?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," Al answered. "Just let me know what I have to do."

"Great. Why don't you come around to this side of the bed with me. I'll show you what to do and then I'll have you try it. That ok with you, Sam?"

"Yeah, sure. Just remember, Al, don't do your Rambo impression," Sam said with a grin.

Jo looked between the two men. "I'm not even gonna ask what that is and neither of you are going to tell me. Ok, Sam, the first thing we're going to do is see how much flexibility you have in your knee right now. I'm going to lay you flat for that."

Jo used the bed control moving the head of the bed until Sam was lying completely flat on his back.

"Is that feeling all right or is too uncomfortable to lie flat?" she asked.

"It's ok," Sam assured her.

"Ok, here we go." She pulled the blanket and sheet back from Sam and while supporting his leg slid the pillow out from under it before laying his leg gently down on the bed. Even without the pillow under it, Sam's knee stayed flexed to some degree. "I want you to straighten out your knee as much as you can now."

Sam straightened out his knee until his leg lay almost completely flat against the bed but was unable to completely straighten it.

"That hurting?" Jo asked.

"No, not really. It feels more like it's pulling or stretching."

"Well, it is. You haven't really used these muscles in nearly a week plus they were all cut during surgery so you're having to stretch them out again. You're doing good considering how long it's been. From now on I don't want you to keep a pillow under you leg and knee. I want you start moving and flexing it on your own."

Jo went through several more exercises with Sam to both test the range of motion of his knee and hip as well as to start strengthening the muscles that were cut during surgery. She'd go through a repetition of the exercise once and have Al go through it once, correcting him if necessary. She worked with Sam for nearly a half hour and by that time he was starting tire out.

"Starting to get tired, Sam?" she asked him.

"Yeah, a bit."

"Well, we only have to one more to go and we're done. All you need to do is just sit for this one."

"I think I can handle that," he said returning her smile.

"I am going to need you to sit with your legs over the bed so we're going to have to move you a bit."

Both she and Al helped Sam sit up fully in the bed and swing around so that his legs were hanging over the side. While Al offered Sam some support Jo bent down and attached a weight she'd brought in with her to Sam's left ankle.

"Ok, I just want you to sit there now for about five minutes."

"What's the weight gonna do?" Al asked.

"It's helping to stretch out the muscle. Instead of Sam having to actively do any work gravity is going to do it instead. I'm going to leave the weight here with you. I'd like you to try to do this at least a couple of times a day."

The three of them lapsed into silence until the five minutes were up. In that short time Sam seemed to tire even more and leaned into Al's support. Finally the time was up and they helped Sam to lie back down again. Jo slipped a spare pillow under Sam's left foot. "This is one more pretty easy thing you can do that's going to improve your range of motion. By supporting just your foot with the pillow it's going to force your knee to straighten. Try to lie like this for 5 or 10 minutes ever hour or so." While Al pulled the blanket back up over Sam Jo wrote down some notes on the clipboard she'd brought in with her.

"Ok, Sam, I'll see you tomorrow at about the same time. Provided the chest tube's out we're going to get you up and walking tomorrow." She turned her attention to Al. "You might want to bring a bathrobe in for him. These gowns are a bit… breezy in the back."

Al nodded his agreement.

"Dr. Child's also left orders for you to start using a CPM device. Do you know what that is?"

When both Sam and Al indicated that they didn't Jo explained it to them. "CPM stands for continuous passive motion. Basically it's a machine that's going to keep your leg, specifically your knee, in motion to prevent it from stiffening up anymore. You've lost a lot of ground since we didn't start pt right away so we're going to have to make it up. Either I or someone else from the PT department will be bringing it up a little later this afternoon and get you started on it. Do either of you have any questions for me right now."

Neither Al nor Sam had any and Sam looked like he was ready to fall asleep at a moment's notice.

"Ok, you get some rest now and I'll see you later. I'll let your nurse know you're having some discomfort. It's too early for you to have another pain pill but you can probably get some Tylenol."

Sam and Al both thanked Jo as she gathered up her clipboard and left the room.

"I like her, Sam," Al said.

"You like all women, Al," Sam answered around a yawn.

"Geez, not that way. She's gonna be good for you – get you up on your feet in no time."

"Mmm….tomorrow," Sam said fighting to keep his eyes open.

"That really took a lot out of you." Al looked up at the clock and saw the time. "Look, why don't you take a nap for a while. I have to go downstairs for a little bit. I have an appointment with the nursing supervisor and then I'll be back up."

"Ok," Sam breathed out. After a bit of effort he managed to get himself turned onto his side, something that he was finally able to do without the brace.

Al pulled the pillow out from under Sam's foot so his leg could lie flat against the mattress and made sure that the chest tube and EKG wires weren't tangled up in the blanket. He couldn't resist brushing his hand over Sam's forehead checking to see how warm he was and smiled when he felt how much cooler Sam was today compared to just a couple of days ago. "Sleep tight, Kid," he whispered before leaving the room.


	48. Chapter 48

Al got in the elevator and got off at the second floor administrative offices. Before leaving for the hospital that morning he'd called the nursing supervisor, Laura Cole, and she'd agreed to meet with him at 3:00. He was a few minutes early for the appointment but didn't think that would matter.

When he got off the elevator he saw an administrative assistant sitting behind a desk and asked her to let Ms. Cole know he was there before sitting down in the provided chairs to wait.

It wasn't more than 5 minutes later before a tall, elegant woman came out of a nearby office. "Admiral Calavicci?" she asked approaching him. "I'm Laura Cole."

Al quickly got up from his set extending his hand to return her greeting. "I'm Al Calavicci."

"It's good to meet you. Why don't you come with me to my office?"

Al followed her back into her office sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk while she sat down behind it.

"Please excuse the disarray. I've been working on the schedule for next week. It's not always an easy task in a hospital as big as this." She moved some papers from the middle of her desk and folded her hands on it.

"Thank you for seeing me," Al said. "I wouldn't take up your time if it wasn't important."

"That's quite all right, Admiral. I'm glad you called me this morning. I also received a report from Dr. Caruthers as well regarding the incident last night with Ms. Logan. I'd like to offer you my apologies. What happened last night never should have. I can assure that Ms. Logan will be properly disciplined for her actions. This hospital prides itself on its treatment of patients. What happened to Mr. Beckett last night is completely unacceptable. Not only were his needs not being met in a prompt fashion but Ms. Logan deliberately ignored a symptom of what could have been a serious matter. You have my assurances that nothing like that will happen again."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'd also like to make sure that Ms. Logan is not allowed into Sam's room again. He's had enough of a rough time without adding anything to it."

"There's no worry there, Admiral. I highly doubt there will be the opportunity for Ms. Logan to be in charge of Mr. Beckett's care again before his release." The steely way the news was imparted led Al to believe it would probably be a long time, if ever before Kelly Logan was in charge of anyone's care at this particular hospital. He found he couldn't find any sympathy in himself for her. In his mind her treatment of Sam last night was unconscionable and whatever repercussions there were, she'd brought them on herself.

"Has Mr. Beckett encountered any other difficulties with the nursing staff in his time here?" Laura asked.

"No. Everyone else has been just great. Up until yesterday there have been no problems at all."

"Good, that's what I like to hear. I know it's very trying to have to stay in the hospital and it's our goal to minimize that discomfort as much as possible. Please, if there are any other problems, no matter how minor, don't hesitate to let me know."

Both Sam and Laura rose from their seats and she leaned across the desk offering her hand to Al again.

"Thank you very much for help with this," Al said.

"That's what I'm here for," Laura told him with a smile. She came around her desk and walked Al back to the bank of elevators. "I hope Mr. Beckett is on the mend and will be released soon," she said as the elevator door opened.

"I hope so, too." Al said before getting in the elevator. "Thank you again for your help."

_That didn't take long_ Al thought as the doors closed and the elevator began it's descent to the lobby. Sam looked like he'd probably sleep for a while so Al thought it would be a good time to go outside for some fresh air – or not so fresh, he thought as he reached into his pocket for a cigar.


	49. Chapter 49

As Al approached Sam's door he saw Jo coming from the other direction carrying a bulky device that he assumed was the CPM that she'd been talking about earlier. He hurried to meet her halfway and offered to carry the device for her.

"Thanks," she gratefully said surrendering it to him. "It can get a little heavy and bulky to carry."

When they got to the door to Sam's room she held it open and allowed Al to walk in before her. Sam was still in the same position he'd been in earlier and his soft snores filled the room.

"He looks so peaceful," Jo said looking at him. "I almost hate to wake him but Dr. Childs wanted that started as soon as possible.

"Here," Al said handing the unit back to her. "You better let me wake him. Sometimes he's not that easy to wake up."

Al shook Sam's shoulder and called his name until he finally saw the hazel eyes crack open. "Hey, Kid, Jo's back with that CPM for you and she needs you to wake up for a while."

"Huh? Uh, yeah." Sam rolled over onto his back and knuckled the sleep out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sam. Just let me get you set up with this and you can go right back to sleep."

"Ok," Sam agreed. "What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything but lie there." Jo used one hand to pull the blanket back and put the unit down next to Sam's leg. "I'm just going to lift your leg up and rest it on the unit." Once she'd secured the Velcro straps around Sam's upper and lower leg she slid the unit a little more toward the center of the bed. "That's not cutting into you or too tight, is it?" she asked.

"No, it feels ok," Sam responded.

"Ok, I just need to plug this in and we'll get it going". Jo grabbed the trailing end of the plug and plugged it into an outlet near the floor just behind the bedside table. Once it was plugged in she set some dials on the side of it and then switched it on. Slowly it started to move Sam's leg in a motion very similar to pedaling a bicycle.

"Ok, you're all set. All you need to do is lie there and let this do its work. Unless you get really uncomfortable you should use it for at least an hour at least 3-4 times a day. If it's not going to disturb you sleeping it might not be a bad idea to leave it running overnight. It's all preset for the degree of motion Dr. Childs wants as well as the speed so anyone can set you up in it and turn it on." Jo stood back and watched the motion of Sam's leg for a while.

"That still feeling ok," she asked.

"Yeah." Sam said crinkling his brow. "It just feels a little strange to have something moving my leg for me but it's ok."

"Good. I'll let you get some more rest now and I'll see you tomorrow."

Once Jo had left Al pulled the blanket back up so that it covered Sam but left his leg free.

"That's not hurting, is it?" he asked.

"No, it's not really hurting. It's just kind of sore. I guess that's going to happen now that I've started therapy."

"Do you need me to bring you anything tomorrow besides a bathrobe?" Al asked sitting down.

"I don't think I bothered packing one. I guess I can just put another one of these on backwards," Sam said indicating the hospital gown he had on with distaste. "I'd really like to just get out of these things and actually wear real clothes, even if it is just pajamas. I hate these things. They make me feel so…exposed I guess. At this point I'd settle for just some underwear."

Al couldn't help laughing just a bit at Sam's complaints. "Yeah, they are a bit breezy in the back, aren't they? Listen, I need to pick up some things for myself that I'm running out of and I don't want to gamble that the stuff Tina's sending out will get here tomorrow. When I leave here tonight I'm going to arrange a rental car and I'll drive out to whatever mall or store is close by and pick you up a bathrobe. At least that way you can have some real clothes."

"Thanks. Hey, do you have my wallet?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Yeah, it's back in my hotel room. You need something out of it."

"No. No, I don't need anything out of it. I guess I just hadn't thought about it until now. Just take whatever you need out of it and if it's not enough I'll give you the difference once we get back and I can get to the bank."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I'll just expense it with everything else."

Sam pushed himself up straighter in the bed anxious. "You can't do that, Al. They find out your expensing personal things and there goes any future funding."

"Would you calm down," Al told him. "First, this never would have happened to you if we hadn't been in DC for the project and second I talked to Weitzman after he was by to see you the other day and he told me to go ahead and expense anything either of us needed until you got sprung from here. Suddenly he's got this generous nature. You'd think he was responsible for putting you in the hospital. Anyway, as long as he's feeling this generous spirit we're both going to take advantage of it and don't give me that look. I know there's been more than a few times you've taken your salary and used it to make sure we had supplies when the budget was running tight so I figure they owe you."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably in the bed under Al's steady stare and accusation. "Yeah, well I know you've done the same thing a couple of times yourself so you should talk."

"Yeah, I guess I have so they owe both of us."

"Ok, Al, just don't go overboard. Don't go getting anything too extravagant. Do me a favor, whatever you think looks good get the complete opposite. I don't need a red silk bathrobe with Chinese dragons on it or something like that."

"Hey," Al said brightening up, "that sounds just like the bathrobe my 3rd…no 4th wife bought me for our wedding night. It had matching red silk boxers. And I bought her…"

Sam held up a hand cutting Al off, "I don't want to know Al, trust me, I don't want to know."

"Sometimes you're just no fun, Sam."

Sam looked fondly at Al and shook his head. "Only you would think talking about woman's lingerie is fun."

"Yeah, but taking it off is even more fun," Al said with a mischievous grin. "There was this one negligee that Maxine had that had all these little ribbons and bows and if you untied just the right one…"

"Al!" Sam again cut him off. "I said I didn't want to know."

"Ok, ok, don't blow a gasket. Geesh, anyone ever tell you you can be a real prude?" Al asked good-naturedly.

"Yes," Sam answered. "You. Frequently."

"He tormenting you again?" Lydia asked coming in the room.

"Who? Me?" Al asked with as innocent a look as he could muster.

"Well, look at you." Lydia said giving Sam her full attention. "Last time I saw you you were sick as a dog. Now look, no more IV, the chest tube is clamped off and you're starting therapy. I better not take another day off or you just might check out next time."

Sam blushed just a little from the attention Lydia was giving him. "I guess things are starting to move in the right direction now," he said with a little shrug.

"I guess so. Of course that doesn't mean I'm not going to keep bothering you and coming in here for vitals checks so let's get this one out of the way."

Al patiently waited until after Lydia had run the full vitals check before asking what Sam's temperature was.

"It's down to 100. Anything I can get you now Sam?"

"No, I'm all set, thanks."

"Ok, then. I'll be back in a little while with your next round of antibiotics."

The two men lapsed into silence once Lydia left. Sam started to stare at his leg in the CPM and soon the constant repetitive motion started to lure him to back towards sleep.

"It's ok to sleep if you're getting tired," Al told him when he quickly jerked his head up opening his eyes wide.

"No," Sam disagreed. "I'd rather not. Then I'll just be awake tonight. I don't want to have to start taking sleeping pills regularly now, too. I've got enough drugs in my system without adding anymore." Sam looked around the room expectantly. "I don't suppose you have those files with you from the other day, do you?" he asked.

"No. I didn't even think of grabbing them when I left. I can bring them back for you tomorrow."

"That'd be great. If I'm getting bored I can't imagine how you must be feeling. You've been stuck here with me everyday. You should go out and do something instead of being stuck here."

_Just like Sam. Putting the needs of others before his own_, Al thought. "I'm happy where I am, Sam. Trust me, the past few days have been anything but boring. After all the worrying the past week I'd welcome a little boring right about now."

Sam winced a little when Al mentioned the past days of worry. "Sorry about that."

"What are you sorry for? I don't think you did any of it on purpose…unless you jumped in front of that car." Al got up from his seat and headed toward the door. "You just sit tight and I think I have a cure for your boredom – at least for now."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked mystified.

"You'll see," Al answered and disappeared out the door.

When Al came back to the room a little later he had a small bag in his hand. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and pulled the over bed table so that it was between him in the chair and Sam in the bed and upended the contents of the bag onto it. A deck of cards bounced out.

"I figure it's time to test your poker skills," Al told him with a smile. "I assume you do know how to play," Al added as he realized in all the time he'd known Sam he'd never seen him play cards. Even the one time that he'd shanghaied Sam to Las Vegas the younger man had ended up spending the whole trip in the hotel room suffering through a migraine headache.

"Yeah, I know how to play. Tom taught me on one of his breaks from Annapolis." Sam chuckled a little at the memory. "Mom was not happy about it at all." Sam's tone suddenly turned somber. "When they sent back Tom's personal effects to us there was a deck of cards. Mom cried when she saw them. She said I should keep them. I still have them but I've never taken them out of the box they were in. They're still the same way Tom left them."

Both Sam and Al sat in silence for a minute until Sam finally broke the quiet. "Let's hope I'm not as bad a player as I was when Tom taught me," he said with false cheerfulness.

Al dealt out the cards and soon the somber mood that had descended over the room was lifted as the two men jeered and baited each other good-naturedly through hand after hand of cards. Al soon came to the realization that quite to the contrary of what Sam had said, he was a very good player and began to silently plot out how he could convince Sam to take another trip to Las Vegas.

Their game lasted until Lydia came in with Sam's next round of meds followed closely by his dinner. He'd kept the CPM unit on until Lydia came in and ended up using it longer than the 1 hour minimum Jo had set out for him. While Sam had eaten his dinner, which he'd dug into with relish Al was pleased to see, Al went down to the cafeteria to get his own dinner. He'd been down there so often that the cafeteria workers were getting to know him.

When he came back up Sam had finished eating and his tray had been cleared away. Since Sam had so soundly beaten him in his their earlier card game Al declared that Sam owed him a chance to prove his own poker skills. The two spent the next few hours talking and playing cards until Sam finally started to tire out.

"I think you've had enough for today," Al said scooping up the cards. "You haven't slept that much today so I'm going to head out now and let you get some sleep."

Sam nodded his head wearily in agreement. "I think I should be able to sleep tonight without needing anything. I'm wiped out."

"Do you need me to bring you anything else tomorrow besides a bathrobe and those files?" Al asked while putting on his coat.

"No, I think that's it," Sam said around a yawn.

Al made sure to slide the over bed table off to the side so that it was out of Sam's way but still in his reach. He made sure the pitcher was filled with water and that there was already a cup poured out. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow morning, Sam. I'll be here later than usual since I need to go out and pick up that stuff but I'll be here before your therapy. Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too, Al. Hey, can you move the phone so I can reach it. Mom was supposed to come home today and I want to call and see how she's doing."

Al put the phone on the table near the water. "Don't stay on for too long. You need to sleep."

"I know. Have a good night, Al."

"Yeah, you too, Kid."

Al left Sam's hospital room and for the first time in too long he didn't leave with the nagging worry that something would happen during the night.


	50. Chapter 50

Al decided to forgo a cab back to the hotel knowing he could walk between the two in 15 minutes or less. The weather was milder than it had been – even for mid-March – with a hint of the coming spring in the air. Last week's snow was long forgotten without even the small trace of it remaining.

On his way back to the hotel Al walked by an Avis car rental agency so he stopped in and made arrangements for a car. They promised that the car would be delivered to his hotel by 9:00 at the latest the following morning. He wanted to get the errands done as quickly as possible and make sure he was at the hospital tomorrow before it was time for Sam's therapy session. As eager and anxious as Sam seemed to be to finally be able to get up and start walking, Al had a feeling it wasn't going to be as simple as either of them hoped.

With the rental car arranged, Al continued on to the hotel. When he got to his room he realized it was still fairly early. This was the first time in nearly a week that he hadn't been spending either the whole night at the hospital or falling into bed as soon as he walked through the door in exhaustion. He settled down to watch some TV before turning in but couldn't find anything to hold his interest for more than a couple of minutes. Without the need to sit vigil over Sam he was finding himself restless and bored.

He finally settled down at the desk in the room with the pile of folders from Sam's carry-on and made an effort to get some of the project work done but fter only 10 minutes he pushed it away in disgust finding it far too tedious to deal with in his restless state. He paced the room several times debating going out for a while but quickly discarded that idea. Although Sam was doing a whole lot better than he had been, Al didn't want to stray too far from where he could be reached in case Sam happened to take a turn for the worse during the night.

He started rummaging through what remained in his bags hoping to find something to occupy his mind. Unfortunately he hadn't bothered to pack any sort of reading material since the trip was supposed to be so short. In desperation he rifled through Sam's belongings pulling a battered paperback out the front pocket of the carry on. The book, "The Three Musketeers" looked like it had been through the wars and flipping the cover open he found he wasn't too far off. The inscription inside announced to him that it had been a Christmas gift from Sam's grandmother in 1960 when he was just seven. It wasn't exactly Al's choice in reading material but he settled back to read it anyway marveling that a seven year old Sam would have been able to comprehend the writing.

Even though he hadn't expected it to, the book soon caught his attention and before he knew it three hours had gone by before he finally put the book down and readied for bed. Before slipping between the sheets he set the alarm clock to be sure he woke up with plenty of time to shower and have some breakfast before the rental car was delivered.

Al was convinced that his earlier restless would follow him to bed and he'd find himself having a difficult time falling asleep but he soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Al was up before his alarm went off the next morning. Looking over to clock he had to restrain the urge to call the hospital and check on Sam. After spending so many days keyed up and waiting for the next thing to go wrong he was having trouble letting go of the anxious feeling. Thinking back to the debacle in Sam's room the previous afternoon he knew he'd have to do his best to suppress it or he'd drive the both of them nuts.

By the time he was done with his shower he couldn't restrain the feeling any longer and picked up the phone to call the hospital. He stopped with his hand hovering over the keypad. If he called Sam's room directly he might end up waking the younger man and it might antagonize him that Al was worrying so much. Instead he called the general number for the hospital and asked to be connected to the nurse's station instead. He had a quick conversation with one of the nurse's, Elizabeth, who was filling in for Diane on her day off. She assured him that Sam had had a restful night and was still sleeping although they were going to be waking him up soon for his next round of antibiotics.

With his worry eased for the moment Al thanked Elizabeth and hung up. He was satisfied that Sam had had such a restful night but considering he'd be getting to the hospital so much later than usual he would have felt better if someone familiar were there to look after Sam instead of someone who was a stranger to the two of them. Elizabeth had sounded friendly enough on the phone not to mention competent so he put the thought that she'd be another Kelly out of his mind.

By the time he got back up to his room after eating breakfast in the restaurant he still had a bit of time to wait before the car would be ready. He filled the time by pulling together all of the files Sam had asked for and any other thing he could think of that Sam might need in the coming days. He was going to add "The Three Musketeers" to the pile but thought the better of it. He'd gotten quite engrossed in reading it last night so he left it on the nightstand in the room to finish later. He'd pick up a couple of books for Sam to read while he was out.

Once he'd gathered everything he needed he headed downstairs and stopped at the concierge's desk and asked her for directions to the closest shopping mall explaining what it was that he needed. She cheerfully suggested that he'd find everything at the Montgomery Mall in Bethesda and wrote out directions for him to get there. Al had a feeling she'd probably spent more than a little time there herself. By the time she was done with the directions Avis had arrived with the car. He tossed the pile of things for Sam in the backseat and climbed in to the driver's seat. With directions in hand he set off for Bethesda.


	51. Chapter 51

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly and he wasn't at all amused to hear someone calling out his name and nudging his shoulder. He made a half-hearted attempt to brush whoever it was away but she was insistent and kept calling him name.

"What?" he finally grumbled opening his eyes just the least bit.

"Mr. Beckett, it's time for your meds so I need you to wake up now."

The woman who was talking to him looked nice enough. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a simple braid and her blue eyes looked open and friendly. A dusting of freckles across her nose gave her a youthful appearance. The only problem was that Sam had no idea who she was. "Do I know you?" he asked, his brow crinkling in confusion.

"No, Mr. Beckett, we haven't been formerly introduced. My name's Elizabeth McCormack. I'm filling in for Diane today on her day off."

"Oh...uh…hi," Sam said before pushing himself over to lie on his back. He pushed himself higher in the bed and used the control to bring the head of it up a little more. "You don't have to call me Mr. Beckett. Sam's fine."

"Ok, Sam it is then." She handed him a small medicine cup with several pills in it and followed that with a glass of water. "Ok, now I need you to roll over just a little toward me," she said once he'd swallowed the oral meds. She put a hand on his shoulder helping him to roll over the little bit she needed before she pulled the blanket down and raised up the hospital gown far enough to expose his hip. "Here comes the fun part," she said uncapping the hypodermic she'd also brought in and jabbing it into the fleshy part of his hip. The drawback to the IV being discontinued was that he was now receiving the antibiotic as an injection. Unlike some other antibiotics administered via injection this one wasn't just a matter of stabbing him, injecting it and pulling the hypodermic out. Instead it took about a minute to completely inject the full contents of the syringe and Sam could feel a slight burning as the antibiotic entered his body. "Ok, that's all set," Elizabeth told him as she pulled the hypodermic out. She held an alcohol swab over the injection site for a few seconds before helping Sam to ease back over onto his back.

"Only 5 more days of this to look forward to after today," Sam said joylessly. "They really need to come up with an oral form of that."

"It could be worse," Elizabeth said as she snapped the cover back over the needle before depositing it in the sharps container.

Sam raised his eyebrows in question.

"It could be a whole week instead of just five days." Elizabeth pulled the blanket back up to cover him and ran through a vitals check. "Apparently it's doing its job. Your temp's down to 99," she told him.

"I guess that something to be grateful for. My butt might not be thinking so soon," Sam said as he smiled ruefully.

Elizabeth only smiled in response before she grabbed the thermometer she'd brought and started to leave the room. "Your breakfast should be up soon," she told him before walking out the door.

Sam grabbed the remote for the TV and turned it on flipping through the channels until he reached the ABC morning show and stopped there to watch. They were currently showing world news and he was interested to see what had been going on in the world for the last week. The last time he'd bothered to try to watch any kind of news it had been a bit more than he could process at the time. By the time the news segment was finishing his breakfast tray was being brought in and he quickly turned the TV off and dropped the remote on the bed next to him. He pulled the table over his lap making sure that the water pitcher and cup were pushed to the side leaving room for the tray.

It seemed he'd no sooner finished eating and the tray had been collected than Elizabeth was back in his room. She dropped the clean gown, washcloth and towel she brought in with her at the foot of the bed and grabbed the basin from inside the cabinet near the bed and headed for the bathroom with it. She came back out with it half-filled with warm water and made room on the cabinet for it. Once she'd set it down she went into the cabinet again and pulled out a new bar of soap. She peeled the wrapper off of it and threw it out in the trash.

Sam watched her preparations with a look of mild distaste on his face. A sponge bath while lying in bed would never top his list of most refreshing ways to get clean although it would be right there on the top of his "best ways to be embarrassed" list. He'd be grateful when the chest tube was pulled and he was finally allowed to get out of bed and take a shower. He was looking forward to that first one and figured if he spent an hour in it, it was deserved.

"Well, let's get this over with," Elizabeth cheerfully said pulling the sheet and blanket back from him. Sam leaned forward enough for her to reach behind him and untie the hospital gown which she let pool in his waist. She was as quick and efficient as she could be helping Sam to clean up and change into the clean gown allowing him to do as much as he could without her intervention. Still Sam couldn't help thinking that he felt like he was all of five years old again taking a bath under the watchful eyes of his mother.

Once he was clean and dressed Elizabeth pulled the blanket back up over Sam. "With any luck," she said, "you'll be up and able to shower really soon."

"No offense, but that can't come soon enough," Sam told her.

"None taken. The one time I was a guest here I was none too taken with the procedure myself." Elizabeth gathered up the towel and washcloth and deposited them in the laundry cart outside the door of Sam's room before taking the basin of water to the bathroom and emptying it out. "I'll spare you changing the sheets while you're in bed," she told him as she returned the basin to its place in the cabinet. "You're going to be up for therapy so I'll just take care of then. The doctors should be around for their rounds soon. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?" she asked.

"No, I think I'm all set," Sam said.

"Ok, just buzz if you need anything then," she told him and then left the room.

Sam spent the next hour or so hour flipping through the TV channels and, when that didn't seem to grab his attention, trying to read the _Newsweek_ that Al had left in the room a couple of days earlier. That didn't seem to help the time to pass either. He found he couldn't help but to keep glancing up at the clock but time seemed to be dragging by. Al wouldn't be by until much later since he had the errands to run and Sam was finding himself becoming impatient for that time to finally get here. He hadn't realized it until now but somehow Al's presence seemed to make his enforced inactivity somewhat easier.

He finally slid the table back over the bed and slid the top back and grabbed out the deck of cards that Al had bought the previous day and started to deal out a hand of solitaire. Usually he had no problem winning at the game but found that he wasn't as sharp mentally as he usually was. Of course he usually didn't have so many drugs in his system.

Sam was just scooping up the cards to deal out another hand when the door to his room opened. He looked over expectantly as Dr. Gleason entered with Elizabeth.

"Good news," Dr. Gleason said with a smile. "Everything's looking great so we're going to be pulling the chest tube.

Sam greeted the news with a mixture of relief to finally have it gone but at the same time he was also feeling nervousness. He'd been on the other side of the equation where he was the one pulling out the chest tube and knew that not only could it be less than pleasant for the patient but there was a risk of complications. If not done exactly right with a dressing immediately put over the site, air could seep into the pleural space causing his lung to collapse again.

"Ok, let's get this done," Sam said forcing a smile.

"Sam, I want you to forget you're a doctor," Dr. Gleason told him. "I can see it in your eyes that you're thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong, not that I blame you. I'd probably do the same exact thing in your position. Still, you know how rare any of that is if it's done right."

"I know," Sam agreed. "Let's just get it done."

The procedure, though not what Sam would call the most pleasant thing in his life, was quickly done. The tube was pulled free of his body with an occluded dressing taped in place over the wound left behind. He fought the urge to breathe shallowly once the tube was freed. Irrationally he had the thought that if he breathed too deeply the air he was bringing into his lungs would escape out of the healing tear in his lung and then out the hole in his chest wall.

"You need to just breathe normally, Sam," Dr. Gleason advised when he saw the shallow breaths Sam was taking. He listened with his stethoscope to ensure that everything still sounded normal. "Just keep breathing normally," he said again once he was done listening with the stethoscope. "Everything sounds good and I don't hear any air escaping. There'll be an X-ray tech up in a little bit to get some pictures and make sure everything's still looking good now that that the tube's out but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't be. I'm actually very pleased with your improvement as a whole and provided you continue to improve at the same rate you have been over the last couple of days and Dr. Child's agrees, I see no reason why you couldn't be discharged within the next 3 days."

"Next three days?" Sam asked with some surprise. "I thought the antibiotic was a 10 day course. I'll still have a couple of days to go on it by then."

"You're right, it is a 10-day course but given your background I see no reason why you couldn't self-administer the remaining course. Of course right now this is just preliminary and it all bears on whether you continue to improve and how Dr. Childs feels your doing with therapy. I understand they're going to get you up and walking around today."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That's what they told me yesterday at any rate. I'll be glad to finally be able to get out of bed."

The door opened and the X-Ray tech came in pushing the portable X-Ray machine. "That's my cue to leave," Dr. Gleason said. "If you start to experience any difficulty at all breathing you need to make sure you tell someone right away, understood?"

Dr. Gleason didn't wait for Sam to answer before leaving the room.


	52. Chapter 52

It didn't take Al much time at all to arrive at the Montgomery Mall. The directions the concierge had given him had him skirting around where most of the traffic problems would have been so he made good time. It didn't hurt that he'd spent his fair share of time in Bethesda as well and had some familiarity with the layout of the city.

He found a parking space fairly close to the main entrance of the mall and pulled in. The parking lot was nearly deserted with just a smattering of cars but that's what was to be expected on Tuesday morning. The first thing he did when he walked in was to check the store directory to figure out where it was he needed to go so he could do it as quickly as possible. It wasn't that Al disliked shopping – his eccentric wardrobe could attest to that. He just didn't want to spend more time on it than necessary today.

After quickly scanning through the list of stores Al headed off in the direction of Sears. Although it wasn't normally his first choice for shopping he knew that it would fit Sam's much less extravagant tastes – it would also fit into the budget better. Despite what he'd told Sam last night the government was not footing the bill for anything. Sam had almost been right when he'd said that if Al did try to expense this shopping trip funding for the project would be cut off. More likely funding would be cut off and both he and Sam would find themselves on the unemployment line. He'd stretched the truth – ok, he'd outright lied to Sam – because he didn't think it was something that he had to be worrying about right now. Al would cover the costs of the extended stay at the hotel as well as the rental car and any other incidentals that were incurred and he'd make sure that Sam was none the wiser.

Al didn't waste any time when he got to Sears and headed right for the men's department. He quickly selected a blue and white plaid flannel robe for Sam. It wasn't so heavy that it would be a hindrance during his therapy but it was still heavy enough to keep him warm. He also grabbed a simple pair of blue cotton pajamas. They might not be something Sam could wear right now but hopefully in a day or two he could trade the hospital gown in for something a bit more fashionable. With that in mind he also grabbed a package of boxer shorts in Sam's size. He'd gotten the laundry he sent out from the hotel earlier that morning so he didn't have to worry about getting himself anything. He was also expecting the delivery from Tina today as well.

Al was just making his way to the register when he caught site of the end-of season clearance racks with men's outerwear and realized that Sam would need some kind of coat when he got discharged from the hospital. None of the clothes Sam had on when he'd been hit by the car had survived without being cut off him. The selection was pretty meager since it was the end of the season but Al was able to find a navy blue woolen pea-coat that would do the trick. From a table next to the rack of coats he grabbed a pair of gloves and scarf. Even if the weather had been heading toward a warming trend the last couple of days he wanted to make sure Sam would have everything he'd need to keep him warm once he was released.

Finally satisfied with his selections he headed toward the register to pay and was soon on his way to his next destination, the bookstore. Now that Sam was awake for longer stretches and aware of his surroundings Al knew it wouldn't be long before boredom would start to set in – especially since Sam was still confined to bed. Even if they did start him walking in therapy today Al had a feeling that didn't mean Sam would be up constantly after that.

He scanned through the current releases and best-sellers picking out 3 that he thought might interest Sam before heading over to the racks of magazines. He grabbed the current edition of _Time_ as well as a copy of _The New York Times_ crossword puzzles. Sam so rarely had time to look a newspaper lately Al thought it was highly unlikely he would have seen any of them so they'd provide him with some distraction and keep his mind working. Satisfied that he had enough to keep Sam occupied for the next couple of days he headed to the register again pulling out his credit card to pay.

He left the bookstore and headed for his final destination – Cinnabon. The gooey cinnamon rolls were one of Sam's weaknesses and he thought it might be a nice touch to surprise him with some. As much weight as Sam had lost since the accident they certainly couldn't hurt.

Finally with the last of his booty in hand Al headed back through the mall and toward the car. In all it had taken him just over 45 minutes to complete all of his shopping. He pointed the car back in the direction of Washington, DC and glanced at his watch. Even if he were to hit traffic on the way back he should still get to the hospital long before the time for Sam's therapy.


	53. Chapter 53

If Al had been pleasantly surprised to see the chest tube clamped and Sam up and comfortable sitting in a chair when he'd arrived the previous day it was like a punch to his gut when he pushed open the door to Sam's room only to discover the room was unoccupied with the bed neatly made. He quickly dropped his armload of stuff in the chair by the window and headed for the nurses' station.

"Where's Sam?" he demanded of the first person he saw there.

"Excuse me," the dark-haired woman asked looking up.

"Where's Sam? He's not in his room."

"Do you mean Sam Beckett?" the woman asked cautiously sensing Al's anxiety.

"Yes, I mean Sam Beckett? Where the hell is he? I was just in his room and he's not there." Despite his attempt at control the volume of his voice grew louder as his anxiety peaked.

The woman's face seemed to brighten up when Al said it was Sam Beckett he was looking for. "Oh, you must be Al," she said. "I'm Elizabeth, his nurse. We spoke earlier."

"Yeah, that's nice," Al said dismissively. "Where is he?"

"Don't worry one of the orderlies is just helping him to shower. Dr. Gleason pulled out the chest tube this morning and Ok'd it. Sam was a little eager, if I might say," she told Al with a smile. "He should be back in his room in a few minutes."

Al visibly relaxed at his words. "So he's ok then?" he asked just to be sure.

"He is. As a matter of fact, here he comes." Elizabeth said pointing up the corridor behind Al.

Al whirled around to see Sam being pushed up the corridor in a wheelchair his still damp hair giving away the fact that he'd just come a shower. He was still far too pale with dark shadows under his eyes and far to thin after days of not eating well but the smile on his face more than made up for any of it. Al could feel the matching smile on his own face.

"So, they let you out of your room, I see" he said when Sam was in hearing distance.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Sam said, his smile, if possible, getting even bigger. "I was beginning to think the world began and ended at the door. I've got to admit, I was a little jealous every time you got to leave through it."

Al fell in step next to the wheelchair. "I bet it felt good to finally take a shower."

"You can say that again," Sam agreed. "I never realized how good one could feel."

When they got to Sam's room Al pushed and held the door open while the orderly pushed Sam through.

"You want to get back in bed or sit up for a while," the orderly asked.

"I think I'd like to sit up for a while if that's ok," Sam said. "I've had enough of bed for a while.

Al stood back out of the way and watched while the orderly pulled the footrests out of the way on the wheelchair and then helped Sam to stand and balance on his good leg before pivoting and settling in the chair. When the orderly started to pull the foot rest up Sam stopped him although he did let him drape a sheet over his legs.

"Al, can you grab the weight off the table over there," Sam asked while the orderly pushed the chair out of the room.

"Sure thing, Kid."

Al grabbed the weight and wrapped it around Sam's left ankle correctly guessing what he wanted it for. The chair Sam was sitting in was a bit higher than a normal chair and left his feet dangling a few inches from the floor –the perfect height for the weight exercise.

"It must feel good not to be hooked up to anything anymore," Al said rising once he'd secured the weight. He glanced quickly at his watch noting the time so that he'd know when to pull the weight off.

"You can say that again. I feel like I just got released from jail or something. Now if I can just get up and walking again…" Sam let the thought trail off. "I got some more good news today, too," he told Al.

"Oh yeah, what was that?" Al was gathering up the bags he'd dropped on the chair and put them on the bed and started to empty them of their contents.

"Dr. Gleason said if everything keeps going well and Dr. Child's agrees I could be out of here as soon as Friday," Sam announced with a "cat that at the canary" grin.

Al stopped pulling things from the bags and came back over to stand in front of Sam. "Are you serious, Kid? That's great."

"Isn't it. That's why I have to get up and start walking around." Sam watched Al go back to emptying the bags. "Hey, did you remember those files?" he asked.

"I got the files and I picked up a few extras to keep you amused." Al said while holding up the books for Sam to see.

"Thanks, Al. You didn't have to do that, though. I'd have been all right with going through the files and I think there's a copy of "The Three Musketeers" in my carry-on.

"There is," Al said. "I just thought you might like something you haven't read yet." Al didn't bother to mention that he'd kept Sam's copy of "The Three Musketeers so that he could finish reading it. "I also grabbed you some crossword puzzles so that might give you something to keep you occupied for a while. Unless, of course, you've already done them then I suppose you have all the answers stored somewhere in your brain. You know," Al said putting the books down on the bed, "that's one thing I'll never understand. You have a photographic memory and remember everything you read. How can you re-read a book that you've already read and have stored in your memory?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," Sam began, his brow furrowing. "I guess I just sort of turn it off when I'm re-reading something and just don't think about it. Same thing when I'm watching a movie, I just try to forget that I know it. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense," he said, "it just sort of happens."

"I don't care how long I've known you," Al said, "I still think it's freaky when you can recite back conversations verbatim that the rest of barely remember having."

Sam shrugged, "I guess I don't think about it much. For as long as I can remember I've always had perfect recall. It's just part of life for me. I guess that's why it's so frustrating not being able to remember the accident." Sam paused for a moment and shuddered just a little. "I can't imagine what it must be like to wake up and not remember anything. What else do you have over there?" he asked changing the subject.

Al pulled out the items he'd bought at Sears and held up the bathrobe for Sam. "I hope this meets with your approval. I got the most boring one I could find."

"It'll do fine, Al and thanks for getting it for me."

"That's not all I got you." Al held up both the package of boxer shorts and the pajamas for Sam to see. "I figure once they say it's ok you might want to dress in something a bit less revealing."

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me balance and get a pair of those on before therapy, would you?" Sam asked eyeing the boxers.

"As long as the nurse says it's ok, you got it." Al looked down to his watch and saw that it had been a little over five minutes since he'd put the weight on Sam's ankle so he bent down to take it off. "You want me to put this up?" he asked indicating the foot rest on the chair.

Sam mulled the question over. "I probably shouldn't so I can keep my knee flexed but it's starting to get a little uncomfortable and I don't want to be sore before therapy. Yeah, I guess you may as well."

Once the footrest was in place Al set about clearing the bed of his purchases. The files and books he piled neatly on the windowsill out of the way. Sam's lunch would be coming up soon so it didn't make sense to put them on the table. The bathrobe he pulled the tags off of and left draped at the foot of the bed. The pajamas and boxer shorts he put in the empty drawer in the cabinet across from the bed.

"I also got you coat while I was at it. Yours didn't survive the emergency room in one piece and you're going to need something to wear when they spring you from here. I left it down in the car so you'll have to trust me that it meets your fashion sense – not that you really have one. Oh, and I almost forgot one last thing," Al said in a teasing voice pulling the box of Cinnabon's out from under the bag he'd hidden it under. "I got you a little dessert for later, provided you do everything you're supposed to."

Sam's eyes lit up when he saw the familiar box and Al was even more sure getting them had been the right thing to do. "Al, I don't care what anyone has ever said about you, you are prince among men. Anything you want from me in the future you just say the word and it's yours."

Al started to hand the box to Sam and then pulled it back from his grasping hand just as quickly. "You know, these could be bargaining chips later, especially with what you just said. I might not be the one with the photographic memory but I'll remember that promise." Al continued to taunt and tease Sam holding the box just out of his reach.

"Damn it, Al, give those to me or I'm not going to need any therapy to start walking." Sam was trying to sound stern but couldn't help but to laugh.

"I'd like to see that," Al said. Finally he handed the box over to Sam. "I'd really like to see that," he repeated again sincerely. "Hey, those are for after you eat lunch, provided you eat your lunch," he scolded when Sam opened the box.

"Relax, Al. I'm not going to eat any of them yet." Sam's expression took on a blissful appearance. "I'm just gonna smell them for a little while."

Al watched Sam for a few minutes blissfully inhaling the aroma of the cinnamon buns before taking the box from him and closing it up. "I know you," he said when Sam started to protest. "You can't resist these things and if I let you hang on to them much longer you're going to eat them all in one sitting – which I've seen you do before. You need to eat something healthy first."

"Spoilsport," Sam complained. "You'll make someone a real good mother someday."

Al's only response to Sam's taunt was to smirk at him. "Speaking of mothers, did you talk to Katie last night?"

"Nope," Sam said with a grin. "When I called her house Mom answered the phone. She came home yesterday morning."

"She did, that's great, Sam"

"Yeah, it is. She sounds good to. Talking to her you'd think nothing happened. She was telling me she was going to commandeer the kitchen from Katie so she cold take it easier in her condition." If possible Sam's grin got even bigger.

"Well, if I know your sister she's not going to let your mother do more than she's up to," Al said totally missing Sam's reference to Katie's "condition". "What's with the Cheshire Cat grin?" Al asked when Sam continued to smile but not talk.

"I'm going to be an uncle," Sam said with satisfaction.

"You're going to be an…Katie's going to have a baby?" If possible Al's happiness was nearly a match for Sam's.

"Yeah. She's known since last week but held off telling anyone with Mom in the hospital and me. Now that Mom's home and I should be out of here soon we can celebrate."

"Well congratulations, **Uncle** Sam," Al said reaching down to shake Sam's hand. "So when's the little one going to make its appearance."

"Some time in August."

"Hey, maybe she'll have the baby on your birthday. That's one way of making sure you never forget it."

"That would be kind of neat," Sam agreed. He would have said more but was cut off by a coughing fit. Though not as bad or frequent as they had been just a few days previously they were still happening.

Al grabbed the glass of water and handed it to Sam once the coughing had stopped. "Here take a sip of this and catch your breath," he told him.

Sam sipped at the water and brought his breathing back under control. "Thanks. I'll be glad when that's not happening anymore."

The door opened then and Maria walked in carrying Sam's lunch tray. She only got a few steps in the door and froze when she saw Al. Sam saw her hesitation and waved her further into the room and she hesitantly approached the two and put the tray on the table wordlessly. She was just about to slip back out of the room when Al put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he told her when she whirled around to face him. "I didn't know what was going on and I thought you were trying to hurt Sam. I shouldn't have yelled at you like and that and I shouldn't have pushed you. I hope you can forgive me."

Maria scrutinized him for a moment and Al began to think the woman wouldn't forgive him. Finally a smile spread across her face. "You a good friend to Mr. Sam. It's ok . You didn't mean to hurt me," she told him in her heavily accented English.

"So we're good?" Al asked hesitantly.

"Si, we good." Maria said before leaving the room.

"I think she likes you, Al" Sam teased pulling the cover off of the plate.

Al grabbed it from him and put it down out the way. "Sorry, Kid, she's definitely not my type. Hey, that looks pretty good," he said eyeing the open-faced turkey sandwich on Sam's plate. "I might have to go down and see if they have it in the cafeteria. You going to be ok for a while?"

"Go on, Al," Sam said using his fork to gesture to the door. "I'll be fine until you get back. Go get yourself something to eat."

"Ok, I'm just going to run downstairs and then I'll be back. You have any idea what time your therapy is going to be?" Al asked before stepping out the door.

Sam finished chewing and swallowing what was in his mouth. "No, I just know it's sometime this afternoon, that's all."

"Well I won't be long anyway so I should be back before Jo's here." Al started to walk out the door again and hesitated looking back toward Sam. "You better eat everything on that tray or I'm giving that box to the nurse's station," he teased before walking out the door with Sam's garbled shout of "you wouldn't dare" following him.


	54. Chapter 54

When he arrived in the cafeteria Al was happy to see that the open-faced turkey sandwich that Sam had for his lunch was also available in the cafeteria. Once he'd gone through the line with his food and paid he headed over to a table off to the side of the room and sat down eagerly digging into his lunch. It only took one bit for him to realize that it looked far more appetizing that it actually was. It might not have been too bad if the turkey hadn't been so dry it could have doubled as shoe leather. He hoped Sam had been luckier with his and quickly finished his meal finding no reason to linger over it and savor it.

When he got back to Sam's room he noticed the call light above the door lit so he cautiously opened the door a crack and peeked in. Seeing the curtain pulled around the bed and Elizabeth patiently waiting outside of it he pulled back from the door and let it close and headed in the direction of the lounge. Lunch might not have been a feast so he thought the least he could do was avail himself of a decent cup of coffee. Elizabeth was just coming out of Sam's room when he got back.

Sam was back in bed with his left leg in the CPM machine. As Al walked in he was just leaning over to return the incentive spirometer to its place on the bedside counter. "I got it all the way this time," he reported to Al with a smile.

"Oh yeah? That's great, Sam. Did you do it all five times?"

Sam's smile melted just a little. "Well, I only got it up there the first two times. The other times were close, though."

"It's gonna take a little more time. At least you're breathing a lot better and that's the important thing." Al took a quick look around the room before asking, "they take your lunch tray already?"

"Yeah, they did."

"Uh huh and did you eat everything?" Al asked.

"Uhh…well…most of it," Sam hedged. "You know, I ate until I was full. It's going to take a while before I'm up to eating a whole meal again."

"Hey, you don't have to get defensive with me. I just had the same thing downstairs and unless they did some magic in the elevator bringing it up I don't blame you if you didn't eat it all."

"I think they must have found the oldest turkey they could. I honestly didn't know it could be that dry even drowning in gravy. I'd hate to be stuck here on Thanksgiving and have that as my dinner." Sam wrinkled up his nose just at the thought.

"I think they killed it just to put it out of its misery." Al grabbed the box of Cinnabons from where he'd left them on the counter across the room and held them out tauntingly to Sam. "I guess since you ate until you were full you don't want any of these."

"Oh, no. I can definitely find room for one of those," Sam assured his eyes brightening.

"Ok. Let me take them to the lounge and heat some up in the microwave for you. You just stay put 'til I get back."

"Yeah, like I can really get up and go anywhere." The sarcasm dripped from Sam's voice.

When Al brought back the warmed up cinnamon roll Sam happily tucked into it. In the past Al had seen Sam happily polish off three of the large rolls without thinking twice. Despite the fact that Sam always ate healthy, the sticky rolls were one of the few items of junk food he often indulged in. Today Sam could barely finish the one that Al had put in front of him. His appetite was still a long way from what it was before the accident.

He was just finishing the last bite when Elizabeth came in with his pain meds. "I know you said earlier you weren't in a lot of pain but you might want to take these before your therapy session today."

Sam swallowed the pill without question.

"Hey, didn't you want to put on a pair of those boxers," Al asked once Elizabeth had left.

"Elizabeth helped me with it earlier when she got me back in bed so I'm all set. Thanks." Sam reached down and pulled up the edge of the blanket hanging over the bed and started running it back and forth through his fingers nervously.

"Relax, Sam," Al told him. "Getting up and walking is nothing you've never done before. You're going to do fine."

"I know," Sam said. He dropped the edge of the blanket like it had burned him when he realized what he was doing. His hands kept fidgeting in his lap even without the blanket there. "I guess I'm just a little nervous. What if I'm not ready yet? What if I can't do it?"

Al got up and dropped the safety rail down on the side of the bed and sat down next Sam. He put his hand over Sam's to still his fidgeting. "You're going to do fine. If you weren't ready to start getting up you can bet neither Dr. Childs nor Dr. Gleason would be letting you. Now don't start worrying and getting yourself upset over something that hasn't even happened yet. I've got faith in you and you're going to surprise us all."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Al. After all, I've been walking since I was 15 months old so it's not like its something new, right? I just have to take it one step at a time – literally."

"That's the spirit. And I'm going to be here with you every step of the way."

A half smile quirked the corner of Sam's mouth. "My own one man cheering squad, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call me that." Al got up from the bed and snapped the rail back into place. "You didn't start walking until 15 months? Isn't that kinda late?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess but babies develop at different rates. I guess I was just a little slow at walking. Mom says once I got the hang of it she started wishing I went back to not knowing how. I guess I could be a little terror when I wanted to."

Al quickly got a picture in his mind of a toddler Sam running around the house wreaking havoc in nothing more than his diaper laughing while his mother chased behind him and he started to laugh himself.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, Sam" Al said as his laughter trailed off. "I just never saw you as the holy terror type. Now me, that's a given. I always pictured you as quiet, studious little kid with his head in a book."

"Just because I might have been a little more advanced than other kids my age doesn't mean I just sat around and read all day," Sam defended. "I got into my share of mischief as a kid – not as much as Tom but I still did."

"A little advanced?" Al said with a huff of laughter. "This from the guy who was reading at the age of 2. Let me guess, by mischief you mean you climbed up the shelves at the local library to reach the biggest book on the top shelf."

Sam colored just a bit and hung his head down mumbling, "I only did that once."

"What?" Al asked surprised. "You mean you actually went climbing up the library shelves to reach a book? Only you Sam, only you. And just how old were you when you did this?"

"Seven. It was a book about the pyramids in Egypt. They'd always fascinated me and the librarian didn't want to get it down for me. She said it was too advanced for my age so I figured I'd just get it myself. It was on the top shelf and I was a little short for my age then so I just…"

"Let me guess, the librarian came back while you were doing your Cheetah impression."

"No, even worse. Mom caught me."

"Ouch. I'm guessing you didn't sit down for a week."

Sam shook his head. "Mom doesn't believe in corporal punishment. I could probably count the times either of my parents ever spanked me on one hand and have a couple of fingers left over. Mom 'talked' to us instead," Sam explained pantomiming quotation marks around the word 'talked'. "Trust me, when she said how disappointed she was in me and that she wouldn't be able to trust me alone in the library again for a long, long time it was worse than if she had spanked me. I wasn't the only one who got a talking to that day, though. She let the librarian know just what she thought for not getting the book down for me."

Al knew that Thelma Beckett could be one tough lady. He'd always made it a point to not get on her bad side because he had a feeling that if he did, he'd definitely come out on the losing end. "Bet she never said no to you again."

"No, she never did."

"Hey, wait a minute, what were you doing climbing up shelves anyway. I thought you didn't like heights. You are the guy who does a ghost impression every time you have to climb a ladder."

"I don't like heights," Sam agreed. "They've only bothered me since I was 9, though."

"I take it something happened," Al prompted. He was finding it fascinating to learn these little bits about Sam's childhood. It wasn't that Sam was secretive about it, it was just that the subject rarely came up.

"I guess you could say that. When I was 9 Tom took me to see a Tarzan movie and when we got back we started swinging off a rope in the barn imitating it. When the rope started to come loose Tom sent up to tighten the knot. I got up there, looked down and froze. Everything seemed to start going around in circles and it was like the ground was dropping away from me. I couldn't move and I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn't see anything. Tom was screaming at me to stop fooling around and come down but I just couldn't. I don't think I'd ever been so terrified of anything in my life. It felt like if I moved just the least bit I'd fall down to the barn floor

"Dad had heard Tom screaming and came in to see what was wrong. I guess he figured it out pretty quick because the next thing I knew he'd climbed up beside me and helped me get down. I thought for sure I was in deep trouble for that but Dad was mad at Tom, not me. He said that since Tom was 15 he should have been the one to go climbing around that high and that he shouldn't have sent me. I really didn't care at that point who Dad was mad at. I just knew that I was down from the top of the barn and Dad was holding me and I was safe again. He ended up carrying me into the house and it took him and Mom a few minutes to finally coax me to let go. Since then I've a thing with heights."

"Geez," Al said after Sam finished relating the story. "I thought it was just something you didn't like, not that there was a real reason why. I wonder why all of sudden heights started to bother you."

"We all wondered that, too. Up until then they never did. I'd go up to the hayloft of the barn and run around on the beams playing tag with Tome and I'd climb trees all the time. I got sick a couple of days later and it turns out I had an ear infection. I guess when I got up there my equilibrium was thrown off and it made me dizzy and that's why everything seemed to be going in circles and moving. It didn't really matter knowing why, though, a fear of heights has stuck with me 'til now."

Al was pleased to see that while Sam was talking about his childhood he'd relaxed even more. With his mind taken off his upcoming therapy session he'd stopped worrying about whether or not he'd be able to get up and walk. His body renewed its tenseness when Jo pushed the door open and came in at just that moment.

She was carrying a pair of crutches and what looked like some kind of belt. "Hi Sam, you all set to get up and moving around?" she asked coming over to the bed.

"Yeah, I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Some of his earlier anxiety leaked back into his voice.

"Relax, you're going to do fine," Jo reassured. "I'm not going to have you do anything you're not ready for." She quickly busied herself turning off the CPM and freeing Sam's leg from it. "You had some pain meds earlier, right?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "About 10-15 minutes ago."

"Good. This is probably going to be a little more uncomfortable than it was yesterday." Once the CPM machine was on the counter out of the way Jo came back over to the bed. "Before we get you up we're going to go through some of the exercises we were doing yesterday and get you loosened up." She went through an abbreviated set of the exercises reminding Sam again that he had to keep doing them throughout the day.

"Ok, time to get you up and on your feet. I see you brought him a bathrobe," she said to Al. "I don't suppose you've got slippers hidden somewhere?"

"Uh, no," Al said. "I knew there was something I was forgetting this morning."

"No worries. You just hang on a second and I'll be right back."

Jo came back a couple of minutes later with a pair of hospital issue slippers. They were really no more than a heavy pair of socks that had rubber traction on the bottom. "These'll do just fine. So, you ready to get up, Sam?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Jo helped Sam to sit up and pivot in the bed so that his legs were hanging over the edge. While she bent to slip the slippers on his feet Al helped him into the bathrobe cinching it loosely around his waist.

"Ok," Jo said standing up and grabbing the belt from where she'd put it down. "We're just going to put this around your waist." Al noticed as she buckled the belt on Sam that it had loops on either side of it but was mystified as to their purpose. Once it was on Sam she explained what they were for. "I can use these loops on either side to grab on to you and help you with your balance. Once you're steadier on your feet we'll do away with them. Let's get you up now."

She grabbed the crutches from where she had leaned them against the wall and handed them to Sam before using the bed controls to lower it so that his feet were flat on the floor. She instructed him on how to use the crutches to support him getting up from the bed and when he indicated his readiness both she and Al helped to support him as he pulled himself to his feet.

Al thought Sam was going to pass out once he got himself upright with the crutches under his arms. His face turned chalk-white and he swayed in place with both Al and Jo holding him on either side.

"Just stay still for a minute," Jo advised. "You haven't been up on your own for a week so your body needs to get used to it. Give it a minute and it will pass."

The three stood silently until Sam finally lifted his head. Although his color hadn't improved that much he at least didn't look like he was going to pitch backwards.

"Feeling a little better," Jo asked and waited for him to nod in agreement. "Ok, I want you to try to put a little weight on your left leg now but all I want you to touch down are you toes."

As soon as he'd stood up Sam had transferred all of his weight to his right leg. He'd flexed his left knee just enough to keep his foot from touching the floor. At Jo's urging he unbent his knee just enough so that his toes touched the floor and transferred some of his weight to his left leg. He grimaced as his weight shifted but didn't show any other kind of negative reaction.

"Ok, now it's time to start walking." Jo instructed Sam on how to use the crutches to assist his walking and he soon took his first hesitant steps. Jo matched him step for step holding on to the loop in the belt on his left side. Al followed along on Sam's right ready to lend a steadying hand if it was needed.

"You're doing good, Sam," Jo told him when he'd gotten half way from the bed to the door. "You want to turn around now."

Sam shook his head. "No, wanna keep going," he spared his words putting all of his energy and concentration into walking. Al could see that it was at best uncomfortable for Sam to be putting any kind of weight on his wounded leg but was encouraged that he wanted to keep pushing himself.

Sam kept the door as his goal. It didn't matter how much it hurt to be walking or that he felt like he might pitch to the ground it was his goal to walk through the door under his own power. He was aware of both Jo and Al on either side of him ready to steady him or, God forbid, catch him if he fell but he couldn't really think about that now. Lying in bed the distance across the floor to the door seemed so short but now that he was actually up and crossing it under his own power it seemed like it had to be at least a mile. He felt sweat start to bead up on his forehead but he couldn't spare a hand to wipe it away. He was almost to the door when he felt his balance slip just a little and then a strong hand at his waist steadying him.

"Do you want to turn around and get back to the bed?" Jo asked.

This time Sam didn't spare anything for words just shook his head and kept pushing towards his goal and finally he crossed the threshold. He supposed he could have turned back at that point but he felt like he had to prove something. He wasn't sure who he was proving it to but he just felt like he had to keep pushing. He'd taken a few steps in the corridor when he heard a voice coming from in front of him and glanced up in the direction of the nurse's station.

"Well look who's up and walking around," Lydia said with a broad grin. "You're looking good, Sam."

He took a few more steps and stopped hanging his head down. He felt like he'd just finished a marathon and realized that he had to walk just as far to get back to bed and the thought finally crossed his mind that maybe he'd pushed it too far for a first time.

"You need to take a break," Jo asked from beside him.

Again Sam didn't have the energy for words and nodded his agreement.

"Ok, there's a wheelchair right here next to you I just need you to turn yourself just a little bit." Jo helped to guide him so that he was standing in front of the wheelchair and then helped him lower down into it taking the crutches from him and leaning them up against the wall.

"Ok, just sit there and catch your breath," she told him. "You did a lot better than I thought you were going to."

When Sam's balance seemed to slip just before he got to the doorway Al didn't think twice and shot out a steadying hand. He knew when Jo asked Sam if he wanted to turn back that there was no way that the Kid was going to do that. He'd seen the way Sam had been eyeing the door and knew it was his goal to cross its threshold. Al silently promised that as long as it wasn't hurting Sam, he'd support him however necessary to help him meet his goal.

It was slow-going and judging by the grimace on Sam's face Al new it was more than uncomfortable but Sam was determined. When Sam finally crossed the threshold Al had to restrain himself from patting him on the back. He was afraid if he did he'd knock Sam off balance and probably to the floor. He barely glanced in Lydia's direction when he heard her cheering Sam on. His whole attention was focused on Sam and making sure there were no mis-steps.

He knew Sam had pushed himself to his limits when he stopped dead with his head hanging down and wondered how on earth Sam was going to get back to his room. Luckily Lydia was there with the solution to the problem pushing a wheelchair close to Sam just as Jo asked him if he needed a break. Once Sam was settled in the chair Al let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding.

"You did really good, Sam" Al said squatting down to be on eye level with Sam once Jo had him settled in the chair. "You just sit tight and get your breath back now."

Al was graced with a tired but happy smile when Sam finally raised his head.

"Who knew they were going to move the door," Sam tried to joke with a chuckle.

Al knew it was sheer determination that had pushed Sam to go as far as he did and to outdo even what his therapist had expected. He also knew that despite that determination Sam was just about done in and there was no way he'd be getting up from the wheelchair and walking back into the room under his own steam. He almost hugged Jo in gratitude when she suggested that Sam let himself be pushed back into the room.

"No," Sam said looking up at her with the same determination in his eyes. "Just give me another minute and I'll walk back."

Al couldn't decide if he should be proud of Sam for showing so much perseverance or tell him he was crazy. "You sure about that, Sam? You look about done in. No one's gonna think less of you if you take the quick way."

Sam seemed to mull over Al's words before making his decision. "No, I'll walk back. I want to." He held his hand out for the crutches and Jo handed them over to him and he levered himself upright again. If at all possible it took him even longer to traverse the distance back into the room and to the bed but he did it and there was no mistaking the self-satisfaction when he sat back down on the bed under his own power.

"So," Sam asked once he'd been settled back in bed, "does this mean I can get up and use the bathroom now?"

"I don't see why not," Jo said. "Your balance though not 100 is good enough for you to be ambulatory with assistance and you definitely proved you have the stamina to walk that far already. As long as you have a nurse with you I don't see why not."

"How about Al, can't he help me?" Sam asked.

"Maybe tomorrow when you've gotten a little more used to the crutches. For right now I don't want you up and walking around unless it's with someone on the nursing staff or another therapist."

"Ok," Sam agreed. "Just as long as I can get up."

Before leaving Jo again reminded Sam to keep up with the ROMs.

After Jo left Al couldn't resist twitching the blanket over Sam just so and smoothing it out. "You did real good, Sam. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Al. That really mean a lot to me. It just felt so good to be up and moving on my own again. I know it's only been a week but it seems like it's been so much longer. I feel like I got just a little more independence back, you know?"

"I know what you mean, Kid. You'll get it all back and faster than you probably think." A yawn nearly split Sam's face in two. "Why don't you get some rest now," Al prompted.

"You think it's ok?" Sam asked, his voice drowsy.

"Ok? I'd say you deserve it. Your still not 100 yet and you need to let your body rest now."

"Ok," Sam responded before pulling himself over onto his side. Within minutes he'd drifted off into a well-deserved, sound sleep.


	55. Chapter 55

The therapy session had exhausted Sam so much that he slept like the dead for the next hour and half not even stirring when Lydia came in to run a vitals check. When he woke up the first thing he did was reach for the call bell and when Lydia came in asked her to help him to the bathroom. It was slow going and Al walked along with the two of them to make sure there'd be no mishaps but it was a definite step in restoring more of Sam's independence.

As Lydia was walking him back to bed he asked if he could use a wheelchair and have Al take him somewhere other than the room. "I'm starting to get cabin fever cooped up in here all the time," he explained to her.

Lydia agreed and once Sam was sitting on the side of the bed she went out to the corridor and came back pushing the requested wheelchair.

"Can you hand me the bathrobe?" Sam asked while waiting for Lydia to come back.

Al grabbed it from where he'd draped it over the chair near the window and handed it to Sam.

When Lydia got back with the wheelchair she helped Sam transfer from the bed into it and he accomplished it with more ease and confidence than he had earlier that morning.

When Al grabbed the handles and started pushing, Sam couldn't resist looking back up to him and teasing, "Remember to obey the speed limit, ok."

"You just sit quiet or I might accidentally have an accident with a wall."

Al pushed Sam down to the solarium at the end of the corridor. One full wall was made up of floor to ceiling windows letting in the sunlight. The view was dominated by the Washington Monument proudly pointing up to the sky.

"Sure is a nice view, isn't it?" Al said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I just wish I could be out there instead of stuck in here."

"Give it a few more days and you will be." Al sat down in a chair opposite where he'd parked Sam's wheelchair. "I bet we're probably going to be here another couple of days once you get out of here and you can spend plenty of time outside then. Maybe I'll take you to play the tourist for a day."

"I don't think we'll have time for that Al. Once I get a discharge date we're going to need flight reservations to get back to New Mexico. We'll have to come back and play tourist another time."

"I'm afraid that flying back right away won't be in your plans, Sam" Dr. Gleason said walking into the solarium. "I see you're not taking any time with getting out of your room now that you're more mobile."

"I was starting to feel a little cooped up in my room." Sam explained. "What do you mean I won't be flying right away? I thought I could head back to New Mexico once I was discharged."

"We need to be sure your lung is up to the changes in altitude so you don't end up with a tension pneumothorax in mid-air. You should know as well as I do that if that happens your chances aren't all that good. I'd say once we discharge you you're going to have at least another week before I clear you for flying."

"A week?" Sam questioned in disbelief. "I have responsibilities that I've been away from for too long. I need to get back. I can't stay here another week after I'm out."

"I understand your frustration, Sam, but it's in your own best interests that you not get on a plane right away. You need to make sure that lung is healing and that's been slowed down by the pneumonia. Of course there's nothing that I can really do to stop you from getting on a plane but you're going to have a hell of a lot harder of a time meeting those responsibilities if you're dead. The choice is yours, though."

Sam seemed to deflate in the chair. Intellectually he knew that everything Dr. Gleason was telling him was the truth and it would be foolhardy to get on a plane if his lung wasn't healed. It still didn't make it any easier to accept the facts. "So what am I supposed to do here for a week?" he asked despondently.

"Take your own advice," Dr. Gleason said. "Play the tourist for a week. I'm sure you'll find plenty to do to occupy you without being overly taxing. I'm sure Dr. Childs will also have you coming in for therapy as well and that week will fly by."

Sam shrugged not totally convinced. "I guess. It's not like I have much of a choice."

"Good. Now there was a reason why I came down here looking for you. I'd like to set up a meeting with your primary care team tomorrow afternoon to review your progress, where you're at and chart out a timeframe for your discharge. Usually a patient's family is at this kind of meeting as well so it would be helpful if you could be there as well, Admiral."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Just let me know when and I'll be there."

"Good, I'm going to schedule it for tomorrow at 3:00 then. There's a consultation room at the other end of the corridor where we'll meet. I'll see you gentlemen tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, thanks, Doc." Al said as Dr. Gleason walked out the door.

Sam didn't acknowledge Dr. Gleason's departure and continued to stare down at his hands in his lap. The news that even after he was discharged he'd have to wait at least another week before he could head back to New Mexico had taken away some of the excitement he'd been feeling at finally being mobile again.

"Cheer up, Sam," Al said patting him on the knee. "It's not like he said it would be a month. He's right, we keep you busy and you won't even note. The week will fly by."

Sam shrugged at Al's words. "I can't help wondering what I'm going to be going back to. The longer I'm here…the longer the two of us are here the more behind things are going to be at the project. It gets too far behind and they're going to pull the plug on us before we even do anything."

Al tried to wave off Sam's concern. "You can't let that worry you right now. Getting you healthy again is the important thing. Once you're recovered than you can make the project your main purpose again."

"You don't understand," Sam sighed. "I've spent my whole life working for this. I can't just let it go."

"I do understand, Sam and I'm not asking you to let it go forever. Just let it go for a couple of weeks. It's not worth your life," Al responded fervently. "That's what you want to do – risk your life for this project. Your life is more important than that and if you don't think it is then I'm telling you now I think it is, your family does, everyone at the project does. There's not one person there who wants to see you risk your life just for the project."

"And if they pull the plug on the project, everyone back there is going to out of a job." Sam stated matter-of-factly. "This isn't just about me, Al. It's not just about my life. There are a lot of people counting on me."

"You think I don't know that." Al paused a few seconds trying to collect his thoughts. It was as if Sam was willing to play Russian Roulette with his own life and didn't seem to understand the impact he had on everyone else. The thought that Sam would risk death just for the project angered Al. "I'll tell you this, Sam, there's not one person back there who'd trade your life for their job. If you're dead then they may as well pull the project 'cause the one guy who can get this thing to work is you so without you it's nothing."

Sam rubbed his forehead with one hand before covering his face with both of them. "Damn it," he suddenly shouted bringing a fist down on the arm of the wheelchair. "It's not fair, Al. I've worked my ass of for this and now I could lose it all…we could lose it all because of one person."

"I know it's not fair, Sam and nothing would give me greater joy than to find the person who did this to you and make them suffer just as much but it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. He propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair supporting his head in his hand. "I shouldn't be complaining like this. It could have been worse. I could have been paralyzed or killed."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. You're frustrated and angry and you have every right to be. Now let's just channel that into getting you well and not into something foolhardy that's going to get you killed."

The two sat quietly for a few minutes. "So, how do we play tourist?" Sam finally asked peeking at Al around his hand.

"That's the spirit, Sam. Have you ever spent much time here in DC?"

"No," Sam answered. "It's usually been for meetings or something else official when I've been in DC. Strange as it sounds, I haven't seen most of the sites in the city."

"Well, I'll have no choice but to be your tour guide, then. I think we'll pass over some of my more favored haunts here since I don't think you'd be up to them but I think we can make sure you see all the important sites. I'll makes some arrangements and rent a wheelchair for after your discharged. That'll make it easier."

"Why," Sam asked confused. "I can just walk. I might be slow and little awkward but I'll be able to walk."

"Because, Mr. Overachiever, do you really think you're going to be able to walk a mile at a time when you get out. Patience, Sam, you're really going to have to learn patience."

Al heard a clatter out in the hall and got up to see what it was. "Looks like they're bringing dinner up. I better get you back to your room." Walking back over to Sam he made sure the brakes were released on the wheelchair before getting behind it and pushing Sam back to his room.

After dinner Sam got up several more times with Lydia's assistance both to use the bathroom as well as to just get in more practice walking. Each time he was up his balance seemed to get a bit better and he was gaining in confidence. Al started thinking that if Sam kept up with that kind of progress he probably wouldn't need the wheelchair when he was discharged after all.

It was just a little bit past 8:00 when Sam started to drift off to sleep so Al readied to head back to the hotel. "Sam," he gently called resting his hand on Sam's forearm. "I'm gonna head back to the hotel now and let you sleep. Remember, you call me if you need anything during the night."

"Ok, Al. Have a good night," Sam sleepily mumbled.

"You too, Kid."

Sam watched Al leave through sleep heavy eyes and then rolled over onto his side and quickly drifted off to sleep.


	56. Chapter 56

_I really need to stop drinking so much at night_ was Sam's first thought on waking up. It was immediately followed by the thought that if he didn't get himself to the bathroom sooner than later things would get just a little uncomfortable and more than little messy.

The room was completely dark and had the feel of late night to it. He reached out and grabbed the string to turn the light on over the bed. After looking around he saw that his crutches were leaning up against the wall next to the table on the left side of the bed. He considered using the call bell but decided against it. He'd been up and walking enough during the day already that he felt confident he could make the quick trip to the bathroom and back without anyone's help.

Sam brought the bed up so that he was sitting completely upright and reached down to trigger the mechanism to drop the safety rail out of his way before carefully pivoting around in the bed until his legs were dangling over the side. He was grateful that he was no longer hooked up to anything – even an IV – otherwise he wouldn't be able to get up without some kind of help. Carefully he slid himself forward until his feet were touching the floor, being careful to put most of his weight on his right leg. He stopped to consider how he could reach the crutches from the bed and finally decided that if he stood up using the bedside table as a support he'd be able to reach them easily.

He got himself out of bed and steadied himself against the table. Keeping his left hand firmly planted on the tabletop, he reached out his right hand to snag the crutches, taking care not to put too much weight on his left leg. He'd just managed to grab hold of them when the door to his room suddenly opened spilling light in from the hall.

"Just what do you think you're doing, young man?" Emily asked sharply.

Sam had been concentrating so much on his goal that when the door opened and Emily called out to him it startled him into losing his balance. He quickly planted both hands on the table throwing his weight forward so that it would support him while the crutches clattered uselessly to the floor.

Emily quickly covered the space between the door and Sam grabbing him under the arms and helping to support him. She guided him backwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"Let me ask you again, what do you think you were doing?" Emily repeated.

"I…uh…I had to use the restroom," Sam explained still trying to recover from nearly falling.

"So you thought you'd take a little midnight stroll by yourself? Were you just planning to lay on the floor until someone came in if you fell?" she asked him sharply/

"Uh, no, Ma'am. I guess I didn't think about that," Sam answered sheepishly. "I just thought I could go without bothering anyone."

Emily sighed and bent down to pick up the crutches. "Sam, you're not bothering anyone if you call us for help. That's what we're all here for. I'm glad you want to get up and use the restroom and start to move around but you're still weak and not very steady on your feet yet. You need to let one of us give you hand or you're going to take a fall and be in even worse shape and stuck in that bed again. I don't think you want that."

"No Ma'am," Sam answered properly chastised.

Emily held out the crutches to him. "C'mon, I'll walk you to the bathroom."

Sam grabbed the crutches and used them to lever himself up off the bed again before setting off at a slow, hobbling pace in the direction of the bathroom. Emily walked close beside him ready to offer a supporting hand if his balance wavered.

"I'll wait right out here for you," she told him when they reached the bathroom. "Don't close the door."

"Thanks," Sam quietly said disappearing through the doorway.

"Let's get you back to bed now," Emily said when Sam appeared in the bathroom doorway when he was finished.

When his balance wavered for a moment he was grateful that Emily was there to steady him. Had that happened without someone to assist him he realized he would have probably found himself on the floor and, no doubt, found his stay in the hospital extended.

"Do you think you'll need something to help you get back to sleep?" Emily asked once he was settled back in bed.

Sam could already feel his eyes getting heavy and sleep beckoning to him. "No, I think I'll be able to sleep on my own."

"Good. Now if you feel the need to take anymore strolls around the room you wait until I can get in here or someone else to spot you." Emily softened her admonishment with a gentle smile. "You're not ready to fly solo yet."

"No, Ma'am. I won't do that again," Sam mumbled into his pillow.

Sam fell back into a deep restful sleep before Emily had even left the room.


	57. Chapter 57

In a repeat of the previous morning, Sam slept soundly for the rest of night and didn't wake until he heard Diane calling his name the next morning to wake him up for his meds. Considering that he'd gotten well over 8 hours of solid rest the night before, Sam still felt as if he could sleep for a couple more.

When he asked Diane to help him out of bed and to the bathroom she quickly vetoed the request. "Let's wait until you're not half asleep before you start taking walks or you're liable to walk into a wall or take a spill."

Sam wisely agreed with her having no desire to add any other injuries – minor or otherwise – to his collection. The bruises were starting to fade to an ugly yellow/brown/green mottled look so it made no sense to do anything to add to the disappearing collection.

She was just leaving the room when the phone rang and Sam realized it had been moved out of his way. "Do you mind grabbing that?" he asked her.

Diane pulled the phone closer to Sam and then left him his privacy to complete the phone call.

Al was on the other end. He explained to Sam that he'd met up with an old friend from his days at Annapolis and was meeting him for breakfast before heading over to the hospital so he wouldn't be getting there until late morning. Sam assured Al that that would be fine. Between getting up for a shower, breakfast and all of the other morning rituals Sam figured he'd be kept busy anyway.

He was just finishing his breakfast when he heard a commotion at his door and it popped open. "Sir, visiting hours haven't started yet, you'll have to wait," he heard Diane firmly tell someone.

"Nonsense, I'll just be a moment."

Even though the person was still standing on the other side of the partially closed door out of Sam's sight he recognized the voice. Weitzman had come by for another visit. He pushed through the door with Diane hot on his heels.

"I'm sorry, Sir, it doesn't matter how long you're going to be. I'm going to have to ask you to come back during visiting hours."

"It's ok, Diane," Sam told her. "I'm sure the Senator won't be here long."

The look on Diane's face went a long to way toward informing all in the room that she wasn't happy with the situation but she did stop trying to get Weitzman to leave. "Just let me know if you need anything, Sam."

"That young lady is quite protective, I must say," Weitzman commented once the door had closed. "I had a few spare moments this morning and thought I'd drop by again to see how you were faring. You're looking much better than you were last time."

The last thing Sam wanted to do was to have to spend any kind of time at all with the Senator. He'd been nice enough and concerned enough the last time he'd been by but that could only last for so long. In essence he held the purse strings of Project Quantum Leap and he'd want a reckoning of where the money was going soon enough.

"I'm feeling much better, Senator. I should be out of here in a couple of days and back at the project within a week after that," Sam told him.

"Splendid. All the sooner you'll get back to your work. We wouldn't want the taxpayers' money being squandered for nothing." He may have said it with a smile but Sam could hear the steel in his words.

"No, Senator. I've been assured that work has been progressing despite my absence." Sam knew it was a stretch of the truth. He hadn't had any contact with anyone from the project other than Al and he really didn't know what work had been done over the last week and a half. He'd hand-picked the people on the project, though, and he knew that they'd continue on as much as they could until he got back. "I also wanted to thank you for your assistance, Senator."

"My assistance?" Weitzman questioned.

"Yes. Admiral Calavicci explained to me that he'd spoken to you after you were here the other day and that you'd given the ok to add the expenses of this whole thing to the projects budget." Sam's voice started to trail off as he explained his thanks when he saw the look on the Senator's face.

"I'm not sure what Admiral Calavicci told you but I can assure you that I gave no approval for any of the expenses that have been incurred since your accident to be financed by the project." Weitzman's face took on an outraged look and he was just barely controlling himself from shouting. "Further, if I find out that the Admiral has done any 'creative financing' to do just that, you'll not only find that all funding for your pet project will cease but that both you and Admiral Calavicci will be duly disciplined. I trust I'm making myself crystal clear."

"Perfectly," Sam dully said, dumbfounded to find out that Al had lied to him.

Weitzman jammed his black stovepipe hat on his head. "Good day, Dr. Beckett," he snapped before leaving.


	58. Chapter 58

Al arrived at the hospital just a little before noon having spent the morning catching up with an old friend. He walked into Sam's room, took one look at him and his greeting died on his lips.

Sam was up and sitting in the chair by the window again and iIt looked like he'd recently showered. Instead of the customary hospital gown he was wearing the pajamas that Al had bought yesterday. The crutches rested against the wall attesting to the fact that Sam was getting around more. It was the look on his face, though, that stopped Al cold. There wasn't much difference, he reasoned, between the look on Sam's face and a thundercloud. Both of them were dark and ominous.

"Hey, Sam," Al finally forced out even though he knew he sounded too cheerful. "You don't look to be in too good a mood."

Sam stared at Al through narrowed eyes and for a moment Al considered himself lucky that there was no truth to the saying "if looks could kill" or he might have been taking a trip down to the morgue.

"How long did you plan on lying to me?" Sam asked in a very calm and level voice.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sam." Off hand Al could only think of one thing he done a little truth bending with but couldn't see how Sam could have found out about it.

"Really? Let me help your memory." Sam maintained the same calm and level tone of voice. It was so opposite to his demeanor it set Al on edge. "Senator Weitzman came by again this morning to check up on me. He seemed quite surprised when I thanked him for his help with the expenses. Does that help your memory out any?"

"Look, Sam, I can explain everything if you just give me a chance. I didn't mean to lie to you." Al tried to explain.

"No? Let me guess – you were just trying to protect me or maybe you didn't think I could handle it right now. Which is it, Al?" Finally Sam's voice started to get more strident in direct response to his emotions. "I'm not an idiot and I'm not a child. You don't need to hide things like this from me or lie to me. You keep telling me to trust you this last week, well how can I if you're not going to be up front with me?"

Al sank into the chair across from Sam feeling very old and defeated all of a sudden. Sam was right. How could he ask him for his trust if he wasn't going to tell him the whole truth? "You're right," Al said simply. "I shouldn't have lied to you about it. All I can tell you is that I'm truly sorry, Sam and ask you to forgive me."

"Why'd you do it, Al. Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" Sam was honestly confused as to why Al had chosen to lie to him about something as simple as expenses.

"Honestly?" Al asked.

Sam nodded his head for Al to continue.

"Because I didn't want to see you put yourself on a guilt trip." When Sam opened his mouth to contradict what he'd said, Al cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't deny it, Sam. If you knew I was paying everything out of my own pocket you would have started beating yourself up over that. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. I just didn't think this was one more thing you needed to add to your self-made list of worries."

"So you thought lying to me was the next best alternative?"

Al got up and started pacing in front of Sam. "To tell you the truth I didn't really give it much thought. You're right; I did want to protect you." For the first time since the accident Al let his own emotions lose. For over a week he'd been taking his own worry and fear and frustration and shoving them to the darkest part of his mind to deal with later and they all chose to come out now. His words began to tumble over each other. "You don't know what it's like to watch your best friend get hit by a car and just land limp in the gutter. I thought you were dead, Sam and there's been too many time this past week I thought that that still might happen. If I'd just looked back at you a second sooner or called your name quicker you might have been able to get out of the way. If I'd just kept walking with I might have been able to pull you out of the way.

"Since I saw you lying there bleeding in the street that's all I've wanted to do is to protect you from anything else that could hurt you even if it meant protecting you from yourself. You know what? I can't," he said throwing his hands up in the air and then continuing his pacing "I can't take the pain away and I can't fight off the infection you got and I can't make you breathe easier. There's hasn't been a whole hell of a lot I that I've been able to do to protect you 'cause it seems like no matter what I do something still manages to go wrong. So I thought maybe, just maybe this was the one thing I could control and protect you from." Al let out a short bark of laughter, "I guess I was wrong about that too." Al sat back down in the chair deflated.

Sam leaned as far forward in the chair as he could without tumbling himself out of it and rested his hand on Al's leg. "You don't have to protect me, Al." he said his voice soft and sincere. "Don't blame yourself for the accident. You warned me as soon as you saw the car. Maybe I should have been paying more attention or I should have gone back to the hotel with you. There's a lot of 'what ifs' and 'shoulda, coulda, woulda's' and if we keep thinking about them all we'll drive ourselves nuts. Just be here for me and be my friend. That's all you have to do and that's what you've been doing. I couldn't ask for a better friend, Al. I mean that. "

Al looked up at Sam's face and saw nothing but sincerity. "It goes both ways, Sam."

"I know that, Al" Sam replied before grimacing and grunting softly in pain. He pushed himself so that he was leaning back in the chair. His hand automatically came up to cradle his still sore ribs.

"Hey, easy there," Al said concerned getting up from his chair when he saw the grimace of pain. "Let's not go puncturing that lung again."

"It's not going to puncture again just because I moved the wrong way. You know it can take a while for broken ribs to heal."

"Yeah, and I know they heal faster if you don't aggravate them."

Sam looked hard and long at Al. "Don't lie to me again, Al. Please."

"I won't, Sam. You have my word on that." Al's voice conveyed all the sincerity he felt. At the time it had seemed perfectly ok to him to lie to Sam about this one small thing. In retrospect he realized now just how wrong that was. He'd made a promise to Sam not to take decisions from him and that's what he'd done without even realizing. True he had Sam's best interests at heart but that still didn't make it right.

The solemn mood between the two was broken when the door opened and Sam's lunch was brought in. It was a different worker who brought it in today and it was dropped off on the table without a word.

Al was used to this by now and didn't even comment on it. He just pushed the table in front of Sam and pulled the cover off the tray. "What the hell is that supposed to be?" he asked when he caught sight of the food on the plate.

Sam pulled the menu out from under the carton of milk. "Well, according to this I checked off beef stew." Sam took a look at the mess on the plate and experimentally poked it with his fork. "I hate to say it but it kind of looks like dog food."

"It kind of smells like dog food, too. Ewww, you're not going to eat that, are you?" Al asked when Sam put an experimental bite in his mouth.

Sam quickly grabbed the napkin off the tray spitting the mouthful back into it. "Ugh. No. I think it tastes like dog food, too." Sam put the fork back down and pushed the table away. "I can't eat this."

Al put the cover back on the tray and moved it off to the counter. "I'm gonna run across the street and get you something edible. How does a turkey on rye sound to you."

"Like a gourmet meal. Get it with extra mayo and tomatoes and I might think I've died and gone to heaven."

"You got it." Al grabbed his coat and hurried out the door. Since it was noon he knew the deli would be crowded and it would probably take a while for him to get through the line and get back. Hopefully he'd be back with plenty of time for Sam to eat before his therapy session.


	59. Chapter 59

Sam leaned his head back against the chair back and unconsciously rubbed his sore ribs. He realized that until today he hadn't given much thought to what Al must have been going through for the past week. He'd been there both physically as well as emotionally anytime Sam needed his support. It never occurred to Sam that Al had in any way blamed himself for the accident.

"I should have known he'd blame himself," Sam thought. "I've been selfish and haven't thought about what this is doing to Al – or what this is costing him." Just as Al had predicted Sam was creating a guilt trip for himself. He silently vowed to himself that no matter what the next days brought he'd try to keep a smile on his face and do whatever he could to alleviate all of Al's concerns."

"You in pain, Sam or are you just thinking?" Al asked when he came back into the room.

Sam's eyes snapped open when heard Al's voice. "Thinking. I didn't hear you come back."

"I'm not surprised," Al said. He put the bag he was carrying down on the table and pulled off his jacket hanging it on the chair back. "You looked like you were a million miles away. So what were you thinking about that had you so distracted?"

Sam shrugged and reached for the bag and started to empty it, "Oh, you know, just stuff. Nothing important. Is there extra mayo on here?" Sam asked holding up one of the sandwiches.

Al studied him for a moment before answering. "Yeah, there should be." He sat down in the chair across from Sam and opened his sandwich still studying the younger man.

"What?" Sam asked around a mouthful when he felt Al's steady gaze on him.

"Nothing," Al said, "I guess I was just thinking, too." Al turned his attention to his own sandwich and the two men ate their meals in peace.

Sam didn't eat much more than half the sandwich before putting it down. "I can't eat anymore," he said before leaning back in the chair. In the past he would have been able to polish off the sandwich without a second thought but now his appetite just wasn't what it used to be and it didn't take that much before he was full.

"You sure you can't manage a few more bites?" Al asked after swallowing a bite of his own sandwich.

"Positive," Sam said. "I try to eat anymore and it's probably going to come right back up.

"You've lost too much weight already, Sam. You need to start eating again to put it back on. You can't afford to lose anymore," the concern in Al's voice was easy for anyone to hear.

It hadn't taken long for Sam's vow to crumble and for Al to voice new concerns. "I know that," Sam said wearily. "I just don't have a very good appetite right now and it's not going to do any good if I force myself and make myself sick."

Al conceded the point and finished eating his own meal.

Diane came in while the two men were eating. When she saw Sam eating something other than the food provided by the hospital she took a peek under the cover to see what he'd originally been served. "I don't blame you," she said when she saw the beef stew. "I just wanted to check and see how you're doing pain-wise and if you needed anything before your therapy session."

"It's really not bad today so I think I'll be ok without taking anything," he decided.

"You're sure?" Diane questioned. "You might not be feeling much pain now but you're going to be doing a lot of moving around in therapy and you'll probably feel it then."

"I'm sure," Sam assured her. "I can't take it forever and the pain's not going to last forever. I'll be ok but thanks for asking."

"Ok," Diane said. "If you change your mind you let me know."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Sam?" Al asked. "If you're in too much pain you won't be able to do much in therapy."

"I'm sure, Al. I don't want to keep taking that stuff and get hooked on it. I'd rather just feel a little pain. Trust me, if it's too much I'll ask for something."

"You better," Al simply said before gathering up the discards from their lunch and throwing it into the wastebasket.


	60. Chapter 60

When Jo came in a little later she was pushing a wheelchair. "You're going on a little field trip," today she cheerfully announced.

She pushed the wheelchair over to Sam and watched while he transferred into it himself with minimal help. "Where are we going?" Sam asked once he was settled.

"We're going down to the therapy room. I thought you might like a little change of scenery and I want to start you a couple of new things that'll be easier to do down there."

Al followed behind as Jo pushed Sam down the corridor and soon the little entourage was in an elevator going down.

"So, what kind of new stuff are you going to be doing?" Al asked out of curiosity.

"Mostly I want to start working more on Sam's range of motion in his hip. That's a lot easier to do downstairs using a powder board than in bed."

When the doors opened Jo pushed Sam through and led Al to the PT room. At the moment Sam was the only patient down there so they had the room virtually to themselves. She stopped near a set of parallel bars and set the brakes on the chair.

"Have you been doing much walking since our session yesterday," she asked.

"When they'll let me up. I don't want to bother the nurses all the time so I'm not getting up quite as much as I'd like." Sam cut a sideways glance toward Al, "You sure I can't start getting up if Al's there to spot me."

"Let's see how you do here today and then we'll decide. Sit tight for a second, I just need to get one of the other therapists to give us a hand."

Sam and Al watched as Jo disappeared into an office at the far end of the room. She came out a moment later accompanied by someone Al would have looked for on the cover of a magazine instead of in a therapy room. She was tall and statuesque with curves in all the right places. "I could use a little therapy from her," Al whispered nudging Sam in the shoulder.

The two women were too close for Sam to answer Al back so he settled for giving him a warning look.

"Sam, Al, this is Lindsay," Jo said introducing her companion. "She's going to give us a little assistance while we use the p-bars. Al, would you mind helping Lindsay out?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," Al answered with a Cheshire Cat grin while pointedly ignoring the look Sam threw him. He knew the look all too well and didn't have to see him to know exactly how Sam looked.

"Great," Jo said missing the exchange between the two men. "I want to see how you're moving your leg," she explained, "and it's going to be a little easier to do that if you use the p-bars instead of crutches. I'm going to go down to the other end so I can watch you and Lindsay and Al are going to spot you."

Once Jo was at the other end of the bars sitting on rolling stool Lindsay helped Sam to standup at the end of the bars.

"Ok, Sam," Jo said, "whenever you're ready."

Sam made the slow trek the length of the bars with Al and Lindsay close by on either side of him – Al encouraging him the whole way. Al marveled over the improvement he could see in the way Sam moved in just a day's time. Although his steps were still slow and he limped heavily and could put very little weight on his left leg, he was more confident and his balance seemed greatly improved.

When he reached the other end of the bars Jo had him turn around and walk back to the other end. She greeted him there with a pair of crutches and stood close by while he transferred his hold from the parallel bars to the crutches. "Thanks Linds," she said once Sam was off the bars.

"Ok, Sam, let's try something here. I want you to walk over to that area," she said pointing to a padded table across the room, "and I want Al to spot you. This way we can see if you're ready to start getting around without someone from the staff with you. Al, you need to be close enough to him to steady him if he starts to lose his balance or fall but not so close you get in the way."

The two men made it across the floor without any mishap, although Jo was staying close by as well just in case. When they got to the place Jo had indicated Al helped Sam to lower himself on the padded table that was there.

"So?" Al asked, "Did we pass."

"I guess you did. Ok, Sam, I see no reason why you can't get up to walk if Al's there to spot you. You keep up this pace and you're going to be going off by yourself."

Al couldn't contain the happy grin. It hadn't been his imagination and Sam had improved over the last day.

Jo had Sam lie back on the table and started to go through a different series of exercises with him. She had him move and flex his hip far more than he had been doing the other exercises. The more Sam did the more pain he seemed to be in as evidenced by the pained expression on his face. Al had to restrain himself from jumping in and stopping Jo from having Sam do any more.

Sam stoically kept doing as he was asked and didn't once complain about the pain he was in. His stoic mask finally fell when Jo slipped a powder board under his leg and asked to slide his leg outward along it similar to the movement made when making snow angels. Sam did it once and wasn't able to move his leg very far before finally giving in. "I can't," he grunted. "It's hurting too much."

"Ok, we'll take a little break," Jo said. "Just lie still and we'll try again in a few minutes.

While Jo leaned against the counter along the wall and started filling out Sam's chart Al sat down on the edge of the table next to Sam's right hip. He rested a supporting hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. Despite the break the pain didn't seem to be easing up for Sam. After a few minutes Jo asked him to try the movement again and again he stopped after the smallest movement and complained of the pain it caused.

"Sam did you have something for pain before you came down here?" Jo asked.

Sam shook his head no.

"He said he didn't want anything because it wasn't bothering him earlier," Al explained for him.

Jo blew out a breath and sat back down on the stool by the table. "Ok we'll just skip this one for now, then. I do want to do one more exercise with you, though. It's passive so you won't actually have to do anything so it shouldn't be as bad."

She helped Sam to roll over onto his right side slipping a pillow under his head for support and another one against his back. She had him bend his right knee at nearly a 90 degree angle to support him in position and then slid his left leg backwards before putting her knee on the table against the pillow to keep him from rolling over backwards. She kept a steadying hand on his shoulder and hip. "Ok, I know this isn't the most comfortable position to be in but I want you to hold it for at least 5 minutes. It's going help to start stretching out those large muscles and give you more flexibility in your hip."

Although Sam didn't complain about the position he was in Al knew that after less than a minute he was in even greater pain. Sam had buried his face in the pillow had grabbed the corner of it in his fist. Al sat next to him again rubbing up and down his arm in silent support. After another couple of minutes Sam finally reached the end of his tolerance.

"I can't do this anymore," he said in a pain-filled voice muffled by the pillow. "Please."

"Ok, we'll stop, Sam," Jo said and helped him roll over onto his back. "Do you think if you take a break you can try again?" she asked.

"Please, no," Sam begged. The pain had caused his eyes to tear up and when he rolled onto his back the tears slid down his temples to the pillow under his head.

"Ok, I think this is enough for today," Jo said and patted him on the arm. "Why don't you try lying there quiet for a little while before we move you to the wheelchair. I'm going to be in the office filling out some paperwork just come and get me if he needs anything," she told Al.

"Yeah, thanks." Al said without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam reached up and wiped the tears from his face. "I guess you were right. I should have taken the pain pill. I'd give anything for one right now."

"I wish I wasn't right, Sam. I hate seeing you in this kind of pain." Al looked down at Sam's leg and could see the small tremors going up and down it from what he assumed were muscle spasms. He reached down thinking if he massaged it, it might relieve some of the discomfort. He'd no sooner rested his hand on Sam's leg before Sam batted his hand away with a groan.

"Don't touch it, please." The begging tone in Sam's voice was like a punch to Al's gut.

Al pulled his hand away from Sam's leg as if he'd touched something hot. "I'm sorry, Kid, I thought it would help."

"Can you get Jo, please. I just want to go back to my room."

"Sure," Al said rising from the table. "I'll be right back"

Al poked his head into the open doorway and knocked on the frame. "Sorry to bother you. Sam wanted to know if he could go back to his room."

"Oh, sure," Jo said pushing away from the desk. "Has it eased up any?"

Al shook his head no. "This is the most pain I've seen him in in a couple of days."

Jo walked Al out of the office. "He did himself no favors by not taking anything beforehand. I wish I'd known."

"Why? Would you have taken it easier on him?"

Jo shook her head, "No, but I would have made sure he took something before we came down here."

This time Sam wasn't able to transfer himself to the wheelchair as easily and he had to depend on Jo to support him. He didn't say anything further about the amount of pain but he didn't have to for Al to know it was still pretty bad.


	61. Chapter 61

The whole way back to the room Sam kept berating himself for not taking the pain medication earlier when Diane had offered it to him. He'd honestly thought he could go through the whole session without it and be fine with no more than a little discomfort. If he'd known then how much pain he was going to be in now he would have happily taken it. He knew that Jo had had to cut the session short because he just couldn't tolerate any movement of his leg anymore and worried that it would curtail the progress that he'd been making. If he didn't continue to make progress there was no way he'd be discharged on Friday.

When he got back to his room he didn't even have to ask for the pain medication. A nurse was there with it as soon as he'd been settled back in bed and he gratefully swallowed it down.

He lay back in the bed with his eyes squeezed shut praying that the meds would kick in quickly. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Jo calling his name.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said. I know you're still hurting a lot right now and probably don't want to move around but once that pill kicks in I want you to try to go back to getting up like you were before and try to do some ROM's. You need to keep using that leg now to get the strength back in it."

"Yeah. I'm sorry you had to cut things short," Sam softly voiced.

"We were almost done anyway. Tomorrow make sure you take something beforehand," she admonished.

"Don't worry, I'm not eager to repeat this again."

"Ok then, I'll see you in a little while."

Jo had already left the room when Sam finally processed her last words. "A little while? We have to do this again today?" he asked Al. He understood the therapy was necessary if he was going to regain full use of his leg but he didn't think he'd be up to another bout of therapy today.

"Your progress meeting, remember," Al reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot. When is it?"

Al looked up at the clock to see what time it was. "You've got about 45 minutes. Why don't you just lie quiet and rest and give that pill a chance to work."

"Just don't let me fall asleep. The Percoset makes me drowsy and I don't think it would be a good idea to sleep through the meeting."

"Don't worry," Al assured tucking the blankets around him, "I'll make sure you're awake in time."

Taking Al's advice Sam let his eyes drift shut and waited patiently until the Percoset started to work.

After what seemed like an eternity to Sam but was probably no more than 15 minutes he started to feel relief from the pain pill. In addition to greatly reducing the pain he'd been in, it also had the effect of making him feel quite drowsy as he'd predicted.

He kept his eyes shut and felt himself floating in the place that exists between sleeping and waking. He was aware of Al moving around the room and announcements over the PA system but it all had a far distant quality to it. If he hadn't kept the thought of the meeting in the forefront of his mind he would have let himself go and slip into sleep. As it was, he lost all track of time and was startled when he felt Al's hand on his shoulder shaking him gently.

"Sam, it's time to wake up. It's almost three."

Sam opened his eyes and wiped the sleep from them. "'M awake," he mumbled. "Just resting my eyes."

"I'm sure," Al agreed skeptically. "Let's get you in the wheelchair and get on with it."

Sam pushed himself upright and eyed the wheelchair distastefully. "I can walk down there, Al. The pain's really let up."

"I'm sure it has and you probably could but right now you look less than coordinated with that stuff in you. I don't think you'd make a very good case for yourself if you walked into the room and fell flat on your face."

Sam tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "No, I guess you're right. I just need to use the restroom first. I think I handle going that far."

Al helped Sam out of bed standing close by until he was balanced on the crutches and then spotted him as he walked across the room.

When Sam nudged the bathroom door closed with one of the crutches Al pushed it back open and poked his head in. "The door stays open, remember."

"Fine," Sam sighed.

When he was done in the bathroom Al met him at the doorway with the wheelchair. He wasn't ready to admit it to Al but he was grateful. Al was right, under the influence of the Percoset he wasn't as coordinated as he generally was. Most likely if he'd tried to walk to the lounge by himself he probably would have ended up on the floor.

When Sam and Al got to the lounge and pushed through the door they saw that Dr. Gleason, Dr. Childs, and Jo were already in there waiting for them. They all had files opened and it seemed they'd started the meeting without Sam and Al.

"Are we late?" Sam asked.

"No, not at all," Dr. Gleason assured him. "We were just going over some final notes regarding your progress."

"Oh," was all Sam said. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that they'd gotten together to discuss him before he and Al had gotten there. He was also trying to make a valiant effort to overcome the persistent drowsiness from the pain pill he'd taken but it didn't seem to be something he could shake easily. He just hoped he'd be able to look somewhat alert.

Al made sure that the door to the room was closed behind them and sat down on the couch next to Sam's wheelchair.

Despite Sam's best efforts to fight the drowsiness and remain alert he could feel his eyes growing heavier and sleep beckoning to him. Dr. Gleason had begun to outline the progress Sam had made thus far in his recovery but Sam was having a tough time paying attention and following what he was saying. He was aware, though, when an unnatural silence fell over the room following by Al poking him lightly.

Sam shook his head to clear the sleepiness from it. "Uh, sorry, did you say something?" he asked Dr. Gleason.

Dr. Gleason blew out a breath. "When's the last time you had pain medication, Sam?"

"I…uh…I." Sam knew he sounded less than intelligent but he honestly couldn't remember at that point how long hit had been.

"An hour ago," Al said coming to his rescue.

"Well, I guess that would explain your lack of attention. Here I thought we were boring you. Ok, let's just sum everything up and then you can go back to your room and get some sleep."

Sam made a conscious effort this time to pay attention to what the doctor was saying.

"Your progress the last several days has been remarkable. There have been no further setbacks from the pneumonia and you've been proceeding with your therapy at an admirable pace. Given that we've decided to set a tentative discharge day for Friday."

"That's great, Dr. Gleason," Sam said eagerly. "No offence but I've been ready to get of here the past couple of days."

"None taken. Just keep in mind that this is a tentative date only. You need to show the same progress over the next two days. That means maintaining a temperature that doesn't go above 99.9, showing no signs that that lung is re-collapsing and keeping up with both eating and drinking as well as continuing your therapy regimen. As long as you maintain your current condition or improve there's no reason why you can't be discharged as early as Friday."

"What about the antibiotics?" Al asked. "I thought you'd said it was a 10 day regimen and it wasn't available orally. How's he going to get that if he's discharged?"

Sam shot Al a quick look. He was eager to finally get out of the hospital and wasn't going to be very pleased if that was jeopardized because of Al's worry.

"We've discussed that and Dr. Childs and I both agree there's no reason Sam can't complete the course of the antibiotic outside of the hospital. Given his medical background he'll be able to administer it himself."

Sam threw Al a triumphant half-smile. There was no way that his progress wasn't going to improve over the next two days nor did he see how it could go in the other direction. The only remaining obstacle was the antibiotic and that had just been solved.

"Once you've been discharged you will still need to come back for follow up visits as well as continuing your therapy on an out-patient basis. As I told you earlier, it's still going to be at least another week before you're cleared to fly."

"How often will I have to come for therapy," Sam asked. The fuzzy, drowsy feeling was starting to creep back in on him and he wanted to get all of the particulars before he couldn't fight it off any more.

"I'd like you to come in for an hour every other day," Jo told him. "That would be in addition to working on your own on the ROM's you've been doing as well as a few others we'll be doing tomorrow. And Sam," she said with both compassion and steel in her voice, "Tomorrow make sure you take the pain meds before our session. I wouldn't want having to cut your therapy short to have an impact on when you're discharged."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam eagerly agreed. There was no way he was going to take that risk.

"Well, if neither of you have any further questions," Dr. Gleason said looking expectantly from Sam to Al.

Al shook his head that he had none at that time but Sam's only answer was to try to stifle a yawn.

Dr. Gleason chuckled at seeing Sam's attempt to cover up his sleepiness. "Well, then, I'll let you get back to your room. I think you've got a date with sleep."

Sam and Al thanked the three for their time and Al pushed Sam out of the room. As excited as Sam was at the prospect of finally being discharged it wasn't enough to overcome the effects of the Percoset. He knew that it wasn't just the medication that was making him so tired and sleepy but it was also his own body's lack of energy reserves. Dr. Gleason had said it would take a while before he fully regained the stamina he had before the accident and he had no cause to doubt him.

By the time Al got him back to his room he was ready to fall asleep sitting up. He had to rely on Al to get him safely transferred from the wheelchair to the bed without any mishaps.

"I'm gonna get outta here day after tomorrow," he sleepily, but happily, told Al as he settled in bed.

"That's the best news I've heard in a long time," Al told him while he tucked the blankets securely. "Close your eyes now and go to sleep."

Sam didn't need Al to tell him to go to sleep. He was already well on his way there when Al's admonishment came.


	62. Chapter 62

Al watched silently as Sam slipped easily into sleep. He noticed that the bruises on Sam's face from the accident were almost gone although there were still dark shadows under his eyes. His color was starting to come back as well. He'd been pale for so many days that even just the slightest tinge of pink in his cheeks did wonders for making him look so much healthier.

Al couldn't help being cautiously optimistic about Sam going home on Friday. Sam seemed to have missed most of what Dr. Gleason had been talking about at the beginning of the meeting so Al doubted he really knew just how tentative that date was. Dr. Gleason, with Dr. Childs's agreement had chosen to keep Sam in the step-down unit as opposed to transferring him to a regular room on the orthopedic floor. He'd explained that even though Sam's progress over the last few days had been steady the chance of him backsliding did still exist and it was better that he was in a place where he was being monitored more closely so that if that happened it could be acted on right away.

Of course that didn't mean Sam was going to take a step backwards. If that were the case Al highly doubted Dr. Gleason would have been talking about discharging him to begin with. Al just preferred to keep his excitement in check until Friday actually got here and Sam was leaving the hospital. He wouldn't, though, do anything to quench Sam's excitement or optimism. He knew that Sam's recovery was just as dependant on his state of mind as it was anything else.

He reached out a hand unconsciously to brush back the hair from Sam's face when he rolled over onto his side. Sam had started out the trip in need of a haircut and now it was an almost desperate need. Al wracked his brain but couldn't remember in all the time he'd known Sam him ever letting his hair get this long. It contributed to the more youthful look Sam's face would take on when he was sleeping peacefully. The lines of pain were erased and the cares and worries he'd carried with him from such a young age vanished as well.

At far too young an age Sam had watched his family crumble around him as first his brother was killed in Vietnam and then his father died just a few short years later. That was almost immediately followed by Katie running off and eloping with the less than savory Chuck and disappearing from Sam and their mother's life for a few years. When she finally reentered there lives it was as an abused wife, something Sam never realized until several years later when Katie finally broke away from Chuck. Added to all that, the years immediately following the death of John Beckett had seen a strain in the relationship between mother and son. It was something Sam never spoke of, only mentioning it briefly in passing, but Al had been able to piece out it having something to do with Sam not making it home in time for his father's funeral – yet one more guilt that he carried with him.

Al knew Sam still carried around a lot of guilt for the bad luck that plagued his family for that short time and blamed himself for much of it. Though how a 16 year-old could have prevented his brother from being shot and killed in Vietnam escaped Al. He knew that period in Sam's life was a driving force behind his work on Project Quantum Leap. Al often wondered that if they were ever successful with the project if it would cause Sam more hurt than it would heal.

Grabbing the copy of Time he'd bought a few days earlier he settled down to read until Sam woke up. There was no use in worrying about something that may or may not happen and if it did it wouldn't be until sometime in the future. For now there were more pressing needs to concern himself with.


	63. Chapter 63

Sam slept until shortly before dinner was brought up. When he awoke it was with a start and he jerked upright before quickly wrapping an arm around his ribs and lowering himself back against the pillow.

"Sam, you ok?" Al asked with concern as he rose and approached the bed.

"Yeah, Al, I'm fine," Sam gasped out around the pain in his ribs. "Remind me not to do that again, would you?" As the pain ebbed away Sam used the control to bring the bed upright.

"Bad dream?" Al asked with concern.

"Not really," Sam explained. "Just one of those dreams where you feel like you're falling from something really high." Sam couldn't contain the shudder that went through is body. "I hate those dreams. It always makes it hard for me to go back to sleep."

"Well, it's just about dinner time anyway so you might want to save your sleeping for later. You keep on sleeping now and you'll just end up awake all night." Al watched as Sam threw back the covers and pivoted so that his legs were hanging over the side of the bed. "You going somewhere?" he asked.

"Yeah, I thought I'd get up out of bed for a while before dinner got here. Can you hand me my crutches?"

Al handed Sam the crutches and then walked with him around the room to where the chair he had been using was located. When Sam lowered himself to sit Al took the crutches from him and leaned them against the wall close by.

"It looks like you're getting around better every time you get up."

"It's starting to get a lot easier." Sam rubbed up and down his left thigh with a kneading motion.

"Your leg still bothering you," Al asked watching the movement.

Sam shook his head. "Not like before. It's just kind of stiff and sore right now. Like when you have a good workout. It's nothing I can't live with."

By the time Sam was settled in the chair his dinner was brought up to him. While he started in on it Al excused himself to go seek out something for his own dinner.

After both men had eaten, they spent the rest of the evening engaged in playing cards. Several times Sam would stop the game just to get up and walk around claiming he was just stretching out his muscles. Al hazarded a guess that he was really just trying to push himself as much as he could to be sure he'd be ready to be released on Friday but chose not to broach the subject with Sam. If it seemed like he was pushing himself too much then he'd say something.

An hour before visiting hours ended Al suggested it might be a good idea for Sam to work on the ROM's again and helped him back to bed. Although Sam easily tolerated the exercises that were designed to improve the flexibility of his knee, it was the ones that worked on his hip that caused him the most discomfort. Al helped him to roll over onto his right side with his left hip flexed backwards as Jo had done earlier. Although Sam was able to last out the five minutes this time, it wasn't without a good deal of discomfort. Despite the discomfort he rested on his back for a few minutes and then through gritted teeth asked Al to help him do it again.

"I think that's enough for right now, Sam. You do too much and you're just going to have muscle spasms in that leg again." Al understood that Sam felt he had to make up for the time he'd lost that morning but knew that he'd only end up regretting it if he kept pushing himself. The more pain he put himself in the more likely it was he'd suffer a some kind of setback.

"I can do it, Al," Sam tried to assure although he didn't sound very assured himself. "Just help me."

Reluctantly Al helped Sam to roll back over onto his side and pulled his leg back into the position. This time Sam wasn't able to last the full five minutes asking Al to help him back over before barely ½ that time had passed. Al bit back on a chorus of "I told you so's".

"Damn it," Sam said after a moment punching the mattress. "I've got to…"

Al didn't let him finish whatever it was he was going to say. "You've got to listen to your body, Sam and right now it's telling you to knock it off. You do too much today and you're going to be in too much pain tomorrow to get up and walk to the bathroom let alone lasting through the whole therapy session. Just give it time."

"That's easy for you to say," Sam said his frustration coming through. "You can walk out of here tonight. I can't."

"You don't think I'd like for you to walk out of here with me?" Al asked sharply not wanting Sam to slip into another bout of self-pity. "The only way that's going to happen on Friday is if you listen to your body and do what it's saying tonight. Right now it's telling you to knock off and give it a rest but you go ahead and keep on pushing yourself past your limits if that's what you want to do. Don't expect me to help you, though, and don't bitch to me tomorrow when you're in too much pain and too stiff to get out of the bed and your back to peeing in a bottle 'cause you're not going to get any sympathy from me. And if you want to indulge in throwing yourself another pity party, well you just go ahead, just leave me off your guest list."

Sam stared dumbfounded at Al. It was the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital that Al had spoken to him so sharply. He opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out as he was at a loss for words.

Seeing the effect his words had on Sam and feeling immediately sorry for having been so short, Al rubbed his hand over his face sighing. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to yell at you. You have every right to be frustrated. I guess I'm feeling a little of it, too."

"No, don't apologize" Sam said finally finding his voice. "I guess I had that coming. All I've done is complain and whine and you're the one who's had to put up with it. I'm surprised it took this long before you gave me that proverbial knock on the head. Look, if I'm being an ass, just tell me. I'm not made of fine china. I'm not going to break just 'cause your being up front with me."

Al sighed silently relieved to see that his words hadn't driven Sam deeper to self-pity. One of the hallmarks of their friendship had always been to tell the other exactly what they were thinking without pulling any punches and to offer that kick in the butt when it was needed. He'd been curbing that natural instinct until now because you just didn't kick a guy when he was down. It was only his own frustration that had finally pushed him to be so sharp and forthright with Sam.

Al smiled ruefully. "Well, it's not like you haven't had good reason to whine and complain. I'd probably be doing more than my fair share of it if I were in your place."

"Wanna trade places," Sam innocently inquired.

"Don't think I wouldn't if it were possible," Al responded in complete seriousness. "I just want what's best for you, Sam, and I know that if you're sitting there feeling sorry for yourself that's just not going to get you anywhere fast. Take it from someone who's been there. I also know if you push your body past its limits you're not going to be able to do anything until it recovers. I don't think you want that."

Sam nodded his head in agreement.

"I'd say you've done enough for tonight and you look like you can use something for pain right about now." When Sam looked like he was going to protest Al raised hand to stall him and cut him off. "Don't argue, I can see it in the lines around your eyes and way your leg's quivering. You're hurting right now. The sooner you take something to alleviate it the faster it's going to work and the less pain you'll be in. You don't want it to keep you awake all night do you?"

"No, I guess not," Sam conceded. He grabbed the call bell and pushed it. Jeanine quickly appeared in the doorway. "Could I get something for pain?" Sam asked when he saw her.

"Sure thing," she said. "I'll be right back."

When she came back a little while later she not only had the requested painkiller she also had hospital gown with her.

"What's that for?" Sam asked pointing to the gown.

"I figured we could kill two birds with one stone and get you changed and settled for the night," she told him as she poured out a cup of water for him.

"Do I have to wear that?" he asked. "Can't I just leave the pajamas on?"

"Sorry, it's just a lot easier at night if you don't have them on just in case you're not up to walking to the restroom during the night." When she saw Sam's look of distaste for the gown she hastened to add, "It's just for tonight and you can put your pajamas back on tomorrow morning."

"I guess I don't have much choice," Sam conceded, something it seemed he'd been saying a lot these days. He took the small medicine cup from her with the Percoset and swallowed it down with water.

"Visiting hours are just about up Sam and it looks like you're going to be getting settled in for the night so I'm going to head out now." Al said. "You need me to bring you anything tomorrow?"

"No," Sam answered handing the cup back to Jeanine. "Can you just make sure I can reach the phone? I think I'll try giving Mom a call."

"Sure thing." Al pulled the phone onto the table that was pushed to the side of the bed. He also made sure the crossword puzzle book, pencil, and the book Sam had started to read were also close to his reach.

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow then," Al said.

"Ok. Have a good night, Al and thanks."

"You too, Kid and don't give the nurses a hard time."

Al disappeared out the door without giving Sam a chance to retort. He headed back to the hotel deciding it would probably be a good idea to get as much rest as he could tonight. The way Al figured it, with a discharge date in hand Sam was going to do anything he could to make sure it didn't change even if it meant climbing the walls. Al had a feeling that the next day would prove to be a long day with Sam chafing at the bit.


	64. Chapter 64

Before heading to the hospital the next morning Al stopped off at the Avis rental agency again to make a reservation to have a rental car the next day. It hadn't made financial sense to keep the rental car past the one day he'd used it to drive to Maryland and since the weather had been clear and warm, he'd been walking to and from the hospital saving on the taxi fare. Al had decided, though, that it would be easier on Sam if he had a rental instead of relying on a taxi and there was no way Sam would be able to walk from the hospital to the hotel.

When he got to the hospital later in the morning, Al cautiously pushed open the door to Sam's room expecting to find the younger man bouncing off the walls in his impatience to leave the next day. He was pleasantly surprised to find Sam up and out of bed and reading quietly in the chair by the window, not at all the bundle of impatient energy he had been expecting.

"Hey, Sam, how you doing today?" he asked coming completely into the room.

"Oh, hi, Al. I'm doing good." Sam took one more glance at the page of the book and closed it without marking it. It always drove people who didn't know Sam crazy when he did that – especially when he'd pick up the book hours or even days later and open it back up to the exact spot he'd left off at. Of course, if Al had asked him to, Sam could have recited the last several paragraphs that he'd just read.

"Thanks for getting this for me," he said holding the book, _A Brief History of Time_ by Stephen Hawking, so Al could see it. "I've been meaning to read it for a while but never seemed to get the chance. It's pretty interesting even if it is kind of basic."

"No problem. I'd say it's pretty basic for you, though, and not the normal schlubs he wrote it for. I remembered you'd said something about it. Besides, it was a choice between that and the latest bodice ripper with what's his name…Fabio?...on the cover."

Sam's face showed his distaste for the genre in question as well as the now famous model from romance novel covers. "I'll never understand how a guy gets to be so famous just for posing for few book covers. Does he even have any talent?" Sam wondered aloud.

"For the women who buy those books, I don't think talent's really a requirement. It's all about the look. Did the doc come by to see you yet this morning?" Al asked taking a seat across from Sam.

"Dr. Gleasons' associate did, Dr. Chandler. He didn't really have much to say."

Al widened his eyes comically, "You mean Gleason actually has a day off. I didn't think that man ever stopped working. He's been here every day since you got here."

Sam laughed softly at Al's reaction. "That's what I said, too. I guess he's pulled a couple of extra shifts and that's why he's been here so much." Sam reached out to put the book down on the window. "Do you think since you're here now we could take a walk down to the solarium or something? I'm getting kind of tired of being in this room and could use a change of scenery." Seeing Al's doubtful expression Sam hastened to add, "I haven't moved further than from the bed to here all morning so it's not like I'm trying to overdo it or anything."

Al had to cover his mouth briefly with his hand to hide the grin that was pulling the corners of his mouth. He wasn't sure there was any way he could explain to Sam that it was caused by Sam's eager, puppy dog look. "Sure, we can take a walk," Al gave in once he had the smile under control. "I see they let you get dressed again," he commented as he helped Sam up from the chair.

"If you can call this dressed," Sam said looking briefly down at himself. "I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to wearing real clothes again tomorrow. Oh, don't forget you'll have to bring me a change of clothes when you come tomorrow morning."

"Don't worry, I'll have everything you need," Al reassured. Once they got into the corridor Al noticed that Sam seemed to pick up a little speed. Whether it was because his goal of the solarium was in sight down the corridor or it was because he wanted to impress anyone that might be watching his progress walking Al didn't know. What he did know was that if Sam kept trying to race up the corridor he was probably going to find him self on the floor. "Hey, where's the fire?" he asked.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What I mean is why are you trying to race up the corridor? Why don't you try slowing it down?" Al cautioned.

"Please don't start, Al. I'm not trying to run or something." Despite his protest Sam did slow his progress down to a pace Al found more acceptable.

"Hey, I just don't want you to end up tripping yourself. With your luck you'd probably fall flat on your face and break your nose next. That might get you some sympathy from the ladies," Al said pointing to Sam's broken leg. "A broken nose will probably only get a few laughs."

Sam stopped his progress up the hallway and half turned to face Al. "Is that really all you ever thing about, Al? Does everything in your life somehow have to involve women?"

"Well, no, Sam. Everything doesn't **have** to involve women." Al responded with complete sincerity. "It's just a whole lot more fun that way. Of course you wouldn't know anything about that." Al couldn't resist smirking at Sam and, had hospital rules permitted, would have chosen that moment to pop a cigar in his mouth.

Sam rolled his eyes and wordlessly shook his head before continuing up the hallway.

"You know what your problem is?" Al asked as they entered into the solarium.

"No. What's my problem?" Sam obediently asked before handing the crutches to Al and lowering himself to sit on a chair by the wall of windows.

Al leaned the crutches against the wall and sat down on a chair near Sam. "Your problem is that you don't know how to appreciate the finer things in life. When's the last time you spent any time with a woman."

Sam colored at the implication of Al's words. "That's none of your business" he mumbled.

"Uh huh," Al said unimpressed. "Let me guess, Donna's the last woman you were with."

Sam didn't answer but the deepening crimson of his face was answer enough. "Geez, Sam, that was 2 ½ years ago. You need to learn to live a little."

"I live just fine, thank you," Sam responded. "I've been busy is all."

"Busy he says. Why don't you try uptight, shy, reserved, wallflower…"

Sam cut off the string of words. "Just because I don't have a parade of women in and out of my bedroom doesn't mean there's something wrong with me, Al. I just think that that kind of relationship is special and you shouldn't just jump in bed with someone as soon as you meet them. There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, Sam, I guess there isn't but it does make life just a little boring don't you think?"

"My life's just fine the way it is, thank you. Now do you think we can change subject to something other than my sex life?" Sam raised his voice just a little louder than he intended to. When he realized that what he'd said had carried to the woman walking by the door at that exact moment the crimson color rushed back to his face. "Please," he choked out just above a whisper.

Al had seen the woman approaching and had tried to cut Sam off when his voice had gotten louder but hadn't been successful. He took pity on Sam thinking that he'd embarrassed him enough for the morning. "Sure, Kid. What did you have in mind?"

"Anything," Sam blurted out in relief. "I don't suppose you kept my room at the hotel. I'm going to need one now."

"No, I didn't and you're not going to need a room. We've bunked together before. I think we can do it again for a week."

"I don't need to share a room with you so you can keep an eye on me constantly, Al. They wouldn't let me out if I wasn't ready," Sam argued.

"I didn't say you needed to be looked after constantly, did I? It'll just make more sense in the long run if we do just bunk together and save a hell of a lot of money." The financial savings was a part of why Al thought it was best for them to share the hotel room but underlying that was the feeling that it would be best to keep close to Sam for at least another little while."

"Oh, I guess I didn't think of that," Sam said mollified. "Look, Al, I know this is costing you a bundle and if you don't let me give you my half that's not fair to you. If it weren't for me you wouldn't have gotten stuck in DC this long.

"Here we go, back with guilt," Al sighed. "Look, don't worry about it, ok. I've got a pretty good rate with a military discount so it's not costing all that much. Don't even think about it, ok?"

"I can't not think about it, Al. You shouldn't be spending all your money because of me. Besides, don't you have alimony payments coming due soon?"

Al winced at the reminder of his alimony payments. "Ouch, Sam, that's a low blow. There are things in life I'd rather forget until it's time to do something about them. As far as me affording this, it's not a problem so just stop worrying about it."

Sam sighed. "You're just not going to give in on this, are you?"

"No so why don't you just drop it."

"Fine," Sam gave in. "Consider it dropped…for now."

After sitting and talking in the solarium for another ½ hour Sam decided it was time for him to go back to his room. Again he set off at a faster pace than Al was comfortable with so he spoke up telling Sam to slow down.

"That's not a good idea right now, Al. I sort of forgot how long it takes me to get from point A to point B and things are getting a little urgent right now if you catch my meaning." Sam didn't slow down but kept doggedly moving as quickly as he could up the corridor.

"Why didn't you say something back there? There's a public restroom at that end of the corridor."

Sam hesitated for just a second before resuming his pace. "Now you tell me." They were half way between the end of the corridor and Sam's room so going back or pushing ahead would take just as long.

"Hey, don't blame me." Al defended himself. "I didn't know I was supposed to be handing out tour maps with all the restrooms marked on them."

Sam didn't dignify Al's comment with a reply of his own but just kept going as fast as he could up the corridor. When he finally got to his room and entered the bathroom he nearly threw the crutches at Al in his haste. "I know, I know," he grumbled at the look on Al's face. "Don't close the door."

Al leaned against the wall outside the bathroom holding Sam's crutches waiting for the inevitable call. He hadn't actually intended to remind Sam to leave the door open. He knew Sam knew that drill by now. What he had been getting ready to tell him was to keep the crutches in the bathroom leaning against the wall as he had been doing. Apparently in his haste that had slipped his mind.

Finally the call came and Al stepped in the doorway. "How'd you get over there?" he asked with some surprise seeing Sam in front of the sink leaning heavily on it.

"I hopped over but this is about as far I as I'm going to get that way." Sam took the offered crutches from Al. Al stepped back to let Sam go by him and was happy to see that he'd chosen to use a more sedate pace this time.

Sam stopped rather abruptly when he got to the end of the bed and looked indecisively between it and the chair by the window.

"You ok, Sam," Al asked concerned that Sam had just run out of steam and couldn't go any further.

"Huh? I'm ok. Just can't make up my mind. I haven't done any of the ROM's today and the easiest place to do them is in bed but I really don't want to go back to bed. It makes me feel…" Sam trailed off without completing the thought gesturing helplessly with one hand.

"It makes you feel like an invalid?" Al guessed.

Sam looked back to Al. "Yeah, it does and I'm tired of feeling that way. Aside from still being kind of tired and not walking well, I feel fine."

"Well, how about a compromise," Al suggested. "Get in bed long enough to do the ROM's and when you're done with them you get up. It'll probably be lunch time by then."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Sam agreed. He finished going the rest of the way to the bed and sat down on the edge of it handing the crutches to Al before swinging his legs onto the bed. Like the previous night he had little to no trouble with the exercises for his knee but when it came to the ones that worked his hip they were still difficult. Wisely he chose not to push himself farther than he should so he wouldn't compromise his afternoon therapy session. He was just finishing up when his lunch was brought in.

Al helped him to get up and settle himself in the chair with lunch in front of him before taking off to get his own lunch across the street.

The rest of the afternoon and evening ended up nearly an identical copy of the day before. The only exception was that Sam made it a point to take his pain meds about 20 minutes before his therapy and was able to make it through the whole session without anything more than some slight discomfort. Since he was still having issues with the range of mobility in his hip, Jo ended up concentrating on working on that with him. When he was discouraged by his progress she reminded him that it had only been a few days since he'd actually gotten up out of bed and that it would get better with time.

By the time visiting hours ended Al had helped Sam back into bed helping him change out of the pajamas for the night. "Just one more night, Sam," he said as he tied the gown at Sam's neck, "and you can wear regular clothes again."

"Yeah, I can't wait," Sam said, though his voice held less enthusiasm than it did earlier in the day. Al chalked it up to Sam just being tired after a long day and chose to ignore it.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Sam." Al said as he pulled on his jacket. "Have a good night."

"You too, Al, and don't forget to bring my clothes."

"Don't worry, just get a good night's sleep." Al waited until Sam had rolled over onto his side with his eyes closed before he left the room.


	65. Chapter 65

Once he heard the door close behind Al, Sam rolled back over onto his back rubbing his stomach with his hand. As the evening had progressed, his stomach had started doing somersaults. Al had had to encourage him to eat more than half his dinner and at the time he hadn't been sure it would stay down.

He reasoned that it was just a case of nerves. After all, as excited as he was to be getting out of the hospital tomorrow he was also nervous about it as well. In the hospital things were regimented making the day go by in a certain order. There was also a full support system to fall back on in case anything went wrong. Starting tomorrow he'd essentially be on his own except for Al and it did leave him feeling a little anxious. He kept those feelings inside without voicing them to Al and causing him more worry.

"You look like you're ready to go to sleep," Lydia said coming in to the room.

Sam startled slightly. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't heard her come in.

"Hmm…yeah, I am tired," he answered.

"Then I'm just in time with your evening meds," she said handing the small medicine cup to Sam as well as a glass of water. After he'd finished swallowing the pills she also administered his last dose of antibiotics for the day and ran a quick vitals check.

"You feeling all right, Sam," she asked with some small concern as she recorded his vitals in his chart. "You seem really quiet tonight."

"I'm ok," he answered. "Just thinking about tomorrow is all."

"You must be excited to finally be getting out of here. We're going to miss you, though." She hung the chart back on the foot of the bed and came back up to the head of it. "Are you going to need anything to help you sleep tonight?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so. I just need to stop thinking is all," Sam told her with a small smile.

"Well, I've got a feeling that's not an easy thing for you. If you change your mind, just ring."

"Thanks," Sam said and watched her leave the room. He rolled back over to his side and closed his eyes resolutely putting tomorrow out of his mind. As tired as he was he didn't think it would take long for him to sleep. Hopefully while he did the queasiness in his stomach would subside.


	66. Chapter 66

Al cursed his luck the next morning. The alarm that he'd set to wake him early failed to go off. Consequently he'd woken up an hour later than he'd intended. From there things just seemed to go downhill in a comedy of errors faster than he would have thought.

When he got back up to his room after eating breakfast there was a message on the phone from Avis. They were a bit delayed in delivering the car and would be a minimum of 20 minutes late. By the time they got to the hotel they were over a half hour late. Once he got the call from the concierge that the car was downstairs he'd rushed out of the room grabbing the duffel bag he'd put Sam's clothes in on the way out the door. It wasn't until he'd gotten downstairs, in the car and started to drive away that he realized he hadn't grabbed the coat he bought Sam. As gray, cold, and rainy as the day was Sam was going to need it.

He ended up having to go around the block which didn't prove to be very easy or fast to do with the traffic. He double parked the car in front of the hotel explaining to the valet out front that he just had to run up the room quickly and took off before the man could acknowledge what he'd said. Al could only hope the car would still be double parked in front of the hotel when he got back down.

Unfortunately it seemed as if only one of the hotel's elevators was working when he dashed back in and he ended up having to crowd into it with quite a few others. As luck would have it stopped at nearly every floor before it reached the one he was staying on. By the time the elevator doors opened on his floor Al had rocketed past impatience. He dashed out of the elevator not paying much heed to who might have been in his way. A quick glance at his watch showed him that he was already past the time he'd told Sam he'd be at the hospital. "Great," he muttered to himself, "he's gonna be waiting on the curb in his pj's at this rate."

Luckily when he got back to the elevator after grabbing the coat it came right away and he was the only passenger on it. Dashing out the door of the hotel he saw the car where he'd left it and threw out his thanks to the valet as he climbed back inside it, throwing the coat on the front passenger seat. Putting the car in gear he took off in the direction of the hospital finally arriving at this destination after negotiating the horrendous morning traffic which had just added on to how late he already was. He grabbed Sam's clothes and headed into the hospital at a fast walk.

As he got off the elevator on Sam's floor Al looked at his watch again for what felt like the 100th time. As anxious as Sam was to finally be leaving the hospital, he fully expected to open the door to his room and find him sitting on the edge of the bed waiting impatiently. What he saw when he pushed open the door couldn't have been farther from that.

Despite how gray the day was there was only a dim glow in the room from the wall light, the ceiling light in the room had been turned off. Sam was on his side in the bed curled into a near fetal position – or as far into the position as he could get with his still healing ribs and leg. In one hand he was clutching the emesis basin and an IV had been put into the crook of the other arm. Although Sam's eyes were closed Al didn't think he was sleeping.

Quietly Al walked up to the bed dropping the bag and coat on the counter across the room and rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. He could feel the small tremors coursing through Sam's body. "Sam?" he questioned quietly. "What's going on, Kid? What happened?"

Sam cracked his eyes open and raised his head up off the pillow. "Al, you finally got here." He let his head fall back against the pillow as if he didn't have the strength to hold it up. From the look of him Al didn't think that was far from the truth. Gone was the healthy glow that had been creeping back and it was replaced once again with an unhealthy pallor.

"I got hung up on the way here," Al explained. "What's going on?"

"I'm not going home today, Al," Sam said in a dejected voice.

"I kind of figured. What's wrong?"

As if in answer to Al's question Sam's eyes suddenly got wider and he leaned over the emesis basin and began to vomit. Al supported him with one hand and with the other began to rub up and down his back falling into the pattern from days ago. Sam didn't bring up much which led Al to believe that this wasn't the first time this morning he'd vomited. This wasn't the time to question him, though, and put him through the third degree.

Al took the used emesis basin from Sam's hand and helped his to lie back more comfortably pulling the blanket back up and tucking it securely around him. He took the basin into the bathroom where he left it and returned with a wet washcloth that he used to wipe off Sam's face and mouth. He noticed that Sam felt just a bit too warm.

Before Al got a chance to ask Sam again what was wrong Diane came into the room with a syringe and medicine cup on a tray. "Hey there Sam, I've got something that's going to make you feel better in a little while." She pulled down the blanket and pulled the gown out of the way and injected him in the hip. "Just give that a little while and it should help with nausea. Now I just need you to sit up for me for just a minute and swallow this down."

She helped Sam to sit up and handed him the small cup filled with a thick, clear liquid. Sam swallowed it down obediently gagging on the taste of it.

"I know that tastes pretty awful but it'll help cut down on how many times you have to go back and forth to bathroom."

"What's going on?" Al asked her once she was done. He absently reached down and tucked the blanket around Sam again.

"Sam started running a bit of temp overnight and he started to feel pretty nauseated. He's been vomiting off and on all morning in between bouts of diarrhea. Most likely he's just got a stomach bug but it's going to keep him here as our guest at least another day or two."

"Sorry," Sam whispered when Diane told Al he wouldn't be going home.

Al rubbed up and down Sam's blanketed shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Kid. Does the doctor know for sure what's going on?" he asked directing his attention back to Diane.

Diane shook her head. "He'll be by a little later to talk with you and let you know. In the meantime he's ordered an anti-nausea med that I just gave Sam and something to help with the diarrhea. They should both start working in a little bit."

"He threw up again," Al told her when she readied to leave the room. "I left it in the bathroom."

"Ok, I'll take care of it," Diane said and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Aw Sammy, you just can't get a break, can you, Kid?" Al quietly said while he continued to rub soothingly up and down Sam's arm.

Sam shook his head and buried his face in the pillow. He was the picture of misery.

Diane quietly came out of the bathroom and handed the cleaned out emesis basin to Al. "Here, in case he needs it again. That shot should calm down the nausea and stop the vomiting and it'll probably make him drowsy. See if you can get him to drink something in a little while. He hasn't been holding very much down and it would be a good idea if he started taking in some fluids."

Al nodded his thanks and put the empty basin down on the bedside table. He continued the soothing motion up and down Sam's arm and didn't pay any attention to Diane leaving. After about 15 minutes Sam seemed to relax and Al hazarded a guess that whatever he'd been given was starting to work. "You starting to feel a little better," he asked.

"Mmm a little," Sam answered. He seemed to be on the verge of sleep.

Al grabbed the chair from the other side of the room and brought it over so that he could sit facing Sam. He'd no sooner sat down when Dr. Gleason came in the room.

"I guess you couldn't bear to leave us yet," Dr. Gleason tried to joke approaching the bed.

Dr. Gleason's entrance into the room had jolted Sam from the sleep he'd been slipping into. He looked up at Dr. Gleason dolefully not appreciating or partaking in the joke.

"Right," Dr. Gleason sighed, "not a good time for humor." His manner quickly became much more professional. "Based on the tests we ran early this morning I'd say we're looking at a nasty case of gastroenteritis."

"What's that," Al asked apprehensively.

"In layman's terms, Admiral, Sam's got the stomach flu." Dr. Gleason explained.

"How'd he pick that up? Shouldn't the antibiotics he's been taking have prevented that?" Al asked.

"Unfortunately it could very well be caused by the antibiotic. Gastroenteritis is a very common side effect of antibiotics. It generally doesn't present itself quite severely, though, but given the fact that Sam was already weakened due to his injuries and the pneumonia it's hitting him harder than it generally would. It could also be caused by a virus that Sam picked up. Anyone he's come in contact with the last day or two could have been carrying it and in already weakened condition he'd be a prime candidate."

"So what do we do about it? He needs to keep taking the antibiotic, doesn't he" Al asked. Sam was lying in the bed quietly letting Al ask all the questions.

"Unfortunately there's not much we can do but let it run its course. You're correct in that Sam does need to finish the full course of the antibiotic to be sure the pneumonia doesn't relapse. It's a bit of a Catch 22. What we'll do is treat the symptoms and keep him comfortable but that's about all we can do. I've started the IV again to combat dehydration and he should have gotten shot of Compasine and some Imodium earlier. I've also listed him as NPO with the exception of clear liquids."

"NPO?" Al questioned confused by the acronym.

"It means nothing by mouth except for clear liquids – water, certain juices, clear broth, jello. The less he puts in his stomach the less likely he is to keep vomiting and becoming more dehydrated. We'll revisit where he is in about 6-12 hours and if the vomiting has stopped I'll switch him over to a BRAT diet. A bland diet consisting mostly of bananas, rice, applesauce and toast," Dr. Gleason added upon seeing Al's questioning look. "As soon as he can tolerate that well we'll readjust his diet again to introduce more food into it."

"I'm sorry about this, Sam," he said turning his attention to the man in the bed. "I know you were counting on being released today but until we get a handle on this that's just not a good idea. Your temperature's elevated again which does worry me and even if it's not very high right now. We want to make sure it doesn't get any higher and we need to combat dehydration which we wouldn't be able to do if you're discharged. This should run its course within the next 24 – 36 hours and then we'll revisit a discharge timetable. If neither of you have any other questions…"

"No, thank you," Al said while Sam shook his head negatively.

"Try to get some rest, Sam and I'll be back by before my shift ends to check on you."

"You need me to get you anything?" Al asked after Dr. Gleason had left the room.

Sam shook his head no and buried his face in the pillow

"He's right. You should probably try to get some rest for a little while and give that medicine a chance to work."

"Yeah," Sam said softly. "I guess that's all I can do now." He lifted his eyes to meet Al's. "I really thought I was going to get out of here today," he said glumly. "I feel like I'm never going to leave."

"You will, Sam," Al tried reassuring him. "This is just a little setback but you'll be out of here in just a couple of days."

Sam half shrugged, the picture of wretched misery.

Al sighed at a loss as to what else he could say to lift Sam's spirits. "Here, why don't you try to drink a little water and get some sleep?"

Sam refused the water. "It'll just come right back up if I drink it," he said.

Al pressed him to drink some water. "You need to start getting fluids into you, Sam or they're going to have to keep you hooked up to the IV. You're never going to get out of here as long as you're on it," Al tried to reason with him.

"Every time I try to drink anything it just comes right back up. I'm tired of throwing up, Al." Sam let out a low groan and tried to curl into an even tighter ball before pushing himself upright. "Help me up," he asked Al with a sense of urgency in his voice.

"Help you up?" Al questioned. "Where are you going? You're in no condition to be getting up."

"I need to go to the bathroom, Al. Now." Sam's voice was still filled with urgency and he tried to lean over and grab the crutches himself.

"Oh," Al said as he realized just what Sam meant by needing to get to the bathroom now. He helped him out of bed and spotted him over to the bathroom pulling the IV stand along with them.

"Don't close the door," Al advised as he helped Sam into the bathroom and made sure the IV was out of his way then slipped back outside to wait by the door.

When Sam called out to him some time later, Al went into the bathroom and found Sam leaning heavily against the sink washing his hands. He was even paler than he was before Al helped him to the bathroom.

Wordlessly Al helped the younger man back to bed and tucked him under the blankets. Again he tried to encourage Sam to drink some water but this time Sam didn't bother to spare any words to argue. He just closed his eyes and turned his face into the pillow refusing the water offered to him.

"Ok, we'll try again later," Al gave in putting the water down. "Why don't you at least try to get some sleep?"

It was at least 15 minutes before Sam's body finally relaxed and he slipped into sleep.

"It's not fair," Al thought. "The Kid's worked so hard to get better and get out of here and now this. When's he gonna catch a break?"

Sure that Sam was asleep at least for a little while, Al patted him gently on the shoulder before getting up and grabbing the duffel bag and coat from where he left them. Pulling open the small closet in the room Al hung up the coat before pulling out the clothes he'd packed for Sam and hanging those up as well. He saw no sense in taking them back to the hotel confident that it would just be another day or two before Sam would be released. Once he'd hung everything up he settled back in the chair and just watched Sam sleeping. It seemed he'd done a lot of that lately.


	67. Chapter 67

It was sometime later when Sam finally woke up. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and it also felt like that same cotton had made a stop in his mouth first. His whole body felt heavy and out of sorts from the lingering effects of the medication he'd been given earlier. Cracking his eyes open the objects in his field of vision included his hand lying curled loosely in front of his face, the rails of the safety bar, the IV tubing snaking down into his arm and the empty chair that Al had been sitting in earlier.

"He must have left while I was sleeping," Sam thought morosely. He couldn't blame Al for leaving. He's been at the hospital day after day with Sam and today was supposed to be just as much about his freedom as it was Sam's. Even though he understood why Al would have left, it was only so long and so many times you could sit and watch someone sleep, it still left an empty loneliness inside of Sam. When he'd been at his sickest Al had been there to keep the boogieman at bay and when he'd started to feel stronger he'd helped to keep the boredom at bay.

Sam knew it was selfishness that had prevented him from really arguing with Al about all the time he'd spent at the hospital. He knew if Al hadn't been there the time would have seemed even longer and harder to get through. Al must have finally hit the limit of his patience for wanting to sit and keep him company.

Letting out a small sigh Sam carefully rolled over onto his back. The nausea and cramping he'd felt all morning didn't seem to be bothering him right now but he had a feeling it wouldn't take too much for it to rear it's ugly head again. He'd do whatever he could to prevent that.

"Hey, look who decided to wake up," a soft voice said from the other side of the room.

"Al," Sam breathed out relieved to see that Al had stayed after all. "You're still here?"

Al stood up and approached the bed. "Of course I am. You didn't think I'd just go and leave you alone did you?"

Sam shrugged one shoulder. "I wouldn't blame you if you had."

"I told you, I'm gonna see this through with you. How are you feeling?" Al asked.

Sam stopped to take stock of just how he was feeling before answering Al and caught sight of the teddy bear sitting beside the bed out of the corner of his eye. "Kinda like him," he said gesturing to the toy. "Like my head's full of cotton," he added seeing Al's confused look.

"Well, they did have you pretty doped up. You've been out like a light for almost 3 ½ hours. How's your stomach feeling now?"

Almost without thinking about it Al reached down to the bed controls bringing the head of it up when Sam started fumbling for them.

"Right now, not so bad but I've got a feeling it won't take much to change that." Sam looked down to where the IV snaked into his arm with disgust. "I really thought I was done with this thing."

"Well, you had a choice of that or dehydrating since you weren't keeping anything down. Speaking of which," Al came around to the other side of the bed and poured a fresh glass of water for Sam. "Why don't you try getting some water into you?"

Sam's first inclination was to flat out refuse. So far everything he'd swallowed that day had come right back up within minutes. The only exception had been the foul tasting medicine he'd taken and that had only been because he'd willed it to stay down and then the Compasine finally kicked in. He wasn't anxious to start the process all over again.

His inclination must have shown on his face prompting Al to chide him. "I know you're probably worried it's just going to come right back up but if you don't start drinking you'll never get rid of the IV." Al brought the straw to his lips while softly encouraging him, "C'mon, just start off with a couple of sips and see what happens."

Recognizing the truth of Al's words Sam took a small sip from the straw. When that seemed to stay in place he tried another but this time his stomach seemed to flip ominously. "That's enough," he told Al quickly not wanting to drink anymore and provoke another bout of the painful vomiting.

Al sighed and put down the cup. "Ok, but we're going to try again in a little while. You want anything else right now?"

"Yeah," Sam answered pushing the blankets down. "Give me a hand to the restroom, will you?"

Al helped Sam to get out of bed and balance on the crutches. "You sure about this?" he questioned when Sam swayed slightly. "We can just get a nurse in here."

"I'm sure," Sam answered. "I've had enough plastic bottles for a lifetime, thank you. I just need to get my bearings and I'll be ok."

Sam made slow progress to the bathroom with Al staying by his side step for step and pushing the IV stand along. Compared to yesterday, the space between the bed and the bathroom door seemed to have doubled or tripled. By the time Sam finally got to the bathroom he was winded and was seriously wondering how he was going to make it back to bed. He quickly took care of his needs and started the trek back across the room. He hadn't made it more than half way back when his vision filled with gray spots and a rushing sound filled his ears The crutches clattered noisily from his suddenly useless arms and he felt himself start to crumple to the floor. He thought he'd end up crashing down in a heap but he felt strong arms circle around him and lower him down gently before he blacked out.

When he regained his senses Sam hazarded a guess that he hadn't blacked out for very long. He was leaning slumped to the side supported against Al's chest. Al was frantically calling his name.

"Wha' happened?" he mumbled not quite sure how he'd ended up on the floor leaning against Al.

"What happened?" Al nearly yelled. "You passed is what happened. I knew you shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

Sam pushed away from Al slightly so that he was supporting most of his own weight and looked around the room. "Help me up?" he finally asked looking back to Al.

"No way," Al firmly replied. "You might have hurt yourself. You're not moving until I get someone in here to make sure you're ok." Al started to move away from Sam but Sam reached out to stop him.

"I didn't hurt myself," Sam said his voice stronger than it had been. "I don't need anyone to come in here." He tried to push himself up off the floor but could find the leverage to do it with one leg nearly useless. He slumped back down, "Just help me up."

When Sam again tried to push himself up Al grabbed his shoulder and held him in place. "Just stay still," he said sharply. "We need to make sure you didn't hurt yourself with that little swan dive."

Sam slapped a hand against the floor. "I told you I didn't hurt myself. Now just help me up." His stomach had started rolling again and being on the floor was giving him a chill. He just wanted to get up and back to bed. "If you're not going to help me, I'll do it myself."

Realizing he wouldn't be able to get back to his feet on his own Sam pushed himself up on his hands and knees. Crawling the rest of the distance to the bed wasn't the most dignified way of getting there, especially in a gown that opened up the back, but he was determined and didn't see any other way. Unfortunately his left leg was neither strong enough nor limber enough to support him so he ended up pulling himself forward on his hands and right knee with his left leg dragging on the floor.

"Fine," Al huffed out. "If you so determined to do this I'll help you back to bed but then I'm getting a nurse in here to make sure you haven't gone and hurt yourself worse."

Despite Al's words Sam kept doggedly pulling himself forward.

"Would you just hold still a second," Al said with impatience in his voice. "There's no more slack in that IV and you're going to end up pulling it out."

Sam had already pulled himself to the bed but stopped before trying to get into it until Al had moved the IV to create slack in the tubing. Once he felt the slack he balanced himself on his knees, putting most of his weight on his right knee, and leaned his forearms on the mattress in order to push against it and lift himself off the floor.

Al grabbed at his right arm stopping him from pushing up. "Sam! Stop it and let me help before you end up falling again."

Sam finally looked over to Al again. "You'll help me?" he questioned. Once he'd started to crawl across the floor he'd tuned out what Al had said and wasn't aware that he'd finally agreed to help him.

"Yeah, that's what I said. If I don't you're just going to kill yourself." Al knelt down facing Sam with the bed against his back. "Can you scoot back a little?"

Sam pushed back from the bed a couple of inches. "What now?" he asked Al.

"I'm thinking about that. I want to get you up without hurting you."

"Just do it fast like ripping off a band-aid," Sam suggested. "Do it fast and then it doesn't hurt. I just really want to get up. It's getting cold on the floor and I'm starting to feel sick again."

"Ok, here put your arms around me and hang on." Al had Sam wrap his arms around his neck. He put his left arm around Sam's back and leaned the other on the bed for leverage. "Ok, on the count of three I'm gonna stand up. See if you can get your right leg under you but don't use the left one, ok?"

Sam nodded his head in understanding of Al's plan. He was starting to see that maybe Al had been right about wanting to get someone in there to help. They were both in an awkward position and he knew there was no way he'd really be able to lift his weight so he'd have to rely on Al to do it. He was just getting ready to tell Al that maybe they did need some help when Al counted to three and started to lift giving him no choice but to help as much as he could. It wasn't pretty but somehow Al got him up and sitting on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and hung his head hoping that the nausea the sudden movement had caused would calm down. He felt Al briefly rest a hand on his back.

Unfortunately the nausea didn't stop. When he felt Al's hand disappear from his back he picked up his head and opened his eyes. Al was leaning one hand on the bed and rubbing his back with the other. "I think this is the first time I'm glad you've lost some weight the last couple of weeks," Al huffed out with a small smile. "I don't think we'd have gotten you up otherwise."

Al straightened up from the bed and put his hands on Sam's shoulders to guide him to lie down in bed. He'd just started to lie back when it felt like his stomach rolled over. He pushed Al's hands away from him sitting back up quickly. "I'm gonna…" was all he managed to get out before the small amount of water he'd drunk earlier made a reappearance. His warning was just enough for Al to jump back out of the way.

Once his stomach had emptied itself he slumped over sideways on the bed. He felt like a wrung out rag and didn't even have the strength to apologize. He listlessly watched as Al stepped around the mess on the floor and lifted his legs up onto the bed before going around to the other side to pull him into the center of the bed and tuck a pillow under his head. The blanket was brought back up and tucked around him. Al came back around into his field of vision and pressed the button for the nurse. Sam lay very still not wanting to reawaken the nausea. He felt like all the fight had been drained out of him.

He closed his eyes and tried to curl himself into as small a ball as he could but was hampered by the dull throbbing in his leg and chest. He heard the safety rail snap back into place beside him and then felt Al's hand rubbing up and down his arm. Without opening his eyes he reached over to grab Al's hand squeezing it as tightly as he could. It felt like Al was his only lifeline to sanity right now and he just didn't want to let go.

"It's all gonna be ok, Sammy, just hang on," he heard Al say just before the door to the room opened.


	68. Chapter 68

Al hadn't thought Sam getting out of bed was the wisest choice. His bout with the stomach flu so far had weakened him again and he didn't seem very steady on his feet. He was adamant, though, that he could make it to the bathroom and Al didn't want to argue with him.

He took note of the fact that Sam was moving much slower today than he had been since he first started to get out of bed and by the time they'd reached the bathroom Sam was breathing hard and his face had turned a ghostly white. Still, he seemed determined so Al had let him go.

When Sam had started to fall on the way back Al felt his own stomach drop to somewhere around his knees and rushed to grab him as quickly as he could. He immediately knew there was no way he was going to be able to hold Sam up and instead guided him gently to the floor kneeling next to him and supporting him against his chest. He supposed it wasn't even a minute before Sam regained awareness but it had seemed more like a lifetime.

He'd had no choice but to help Sam up and back to bed despite wanting to get a nurse in the room first. Sam was too stubborn and too determined and if he hadn't helped him he most likely would have only ended up crashing to the floor again.

Now the kid was lying in a huddled ball in the bed clinging to him like a drowning man. Al guessed in a way that that might have been how Sam was feeling. Every time it seemed as if he'd made some headway something else would come along crashing over him like the waves in the ocean.

"It's all gonna be ok, Sammy, just hang on," Al consoled him.

Sam didn't offer any response and Al didn't expect him to. Since his aborted warning followed by the vomiting he'd been quiet, his energy spent.

Al heard the door to the room open and looked back to see who was there.

"He's not doing to good is he?" Lydia questioned coming into the room. She looked down at the floor and saw the mess there. "I guess he's not," she said answering her own question.

"No," Al responded quietly. "He wanted to get up and use the restroom and took a little tumble. I got him back into bed but he was sick again, but you can see that."

"He fell?" Lydia questioned, her concern rising.

"More like he started to. I was able to grab him and get him down easy. He said nothing hurt," Al explained.

Al started to let Sam's hand go and get out of Lydia's way near the bed but as soon as he started to Sam tightened his grip. "It's ok, Sam. I'm not going anywhere. I just need to get out of Lydia's way." Al waited until Sam loosened his grip before moving out of the way. He only went as far as the foot of bed and dropped his hand down to Sam's blanket covered foot to reassure him that he was still there.

Lydia approached the bed avoiding the mess on the floor. "Sam, did you hurt yourself when you fell?" she asked. "Are you in any pain?"

Sam shook his head on the pillow still not opening his eyes.

"I want to check your incision and make sure you didn't pull anything, Sam, but I need you to lie on your back so I can do that. Can you roll over for me?"

Again Sam shook his head on the pillow.

"I know you probably don't' want to move around a lot right now but it's really important. It'll just be for a little while, ok?"

Sam slowly nodded his head and pushed himself over onto his back. His eyes cracked open and he watched while Lydia pulled back the blanket and pulled the gown up to reveal the dressing over the surgical incision. She peeled back the gauze dressing to look at the wound. "Ok," she said as she taped the dressing back in place, "that looks good. How about your leg? Is that hurting?"

Sam finally opened his eyes fully to look at Lydia and Al was surprised that they seemed so glassy.

"No," Sam quietly said. "It's not hurting."

Lydia grabbed the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around Sam's arm. "Can you tell me how you're feeling right now?" she asked.

Sam paused a moment before answering in a low voice. "Nauseated again and kinda shaky. My head's starting to pound. I just don't feel right and everything's kind of blurry."

Sam's sudden switch from claiming he was fine after he fell to his honest answer of Lydia's question worried Al. He really must have been feeling badly if he was willing to admit it.

If Sam's symptoms concerned Lydia at all she did a good job of not showing it to him. She finished checking his vitals and pulled the blanket up over him. "I'm going to call down to Dr. Gleason and let him know what's going on. You try to rest until he gets here."

Sam didn't answer her but rolled back over onto his side and closed his eyes.

"I'll get someone in here right away to clean up the mess," she told Al. "Keep him still for now." Concern had crept into her voice and Al felt his own level of concern rise in turn.

Once Lydia gave up her place near the bed Al resumed it again rubbing a comforting hand up and down Sam's arm. "You sleeping?" he asked him softly.

Sam shook his head "no" but didn't open his eyes. "Everything's starting to go in circles. I don't feel good," he needlessly told Al.

"I know, Kid, I know. The doc'll be here soon and he'll fix you right up. Just lie still." When he heard the door again open Al looked back hoping to see Dr. Gleason. Instead it was someone from housekeeping coming in to clean up the floor. Al moved closer up towards the wall and bedside table to get out of the way but he didn't want to yield his place at Sam's side.

The woman cleaned the mess quickly and quietly doing her best not to disturb Sam. Unfortunately the smell of the cleaner did that instead.

"What's that?" Sam asked wrinkling his nose.

"It's nothing, Sam. They're just cleaning up the floor." Al grabbed the emesis basin off the table. He didn't think it had been possible for Sam's face to get any whiter but it did. He strongly expected Sam would soon need the basin again. "She'll be done in a minute, just hang on."

The woman finally finished and left. Sam showed no more signs of getting sick again so Al put the basin back down. "Why don't you just lie still and try to sleep for a little while."

"Ok," Sam breathed out. "Can I have some water," he asked a moment later.

"Sure, hang on a sec." Al grabbed the cup and held the bent straw to Sam's lips with one hand and lifted his head off the pillow with the other. "Here you go. Just take sips." Sam didn't manage more than a few small sips of the water before he pushed it away. Al rested his head back on the pillow and tucked the blanket in securely around him making sure the IV wasn't caught in it.

"I'm just gonna sleep now," Sam murmured. "I'm tired."

"Sounds like a good idea," Al agreed. When he thought Sam had finally drifted off Al started to move from the bed to get a chair to sit on. As soon as he felt the loss of Al's hand on his shoulder Sam jerked back awake. "I'm right here," Al reassured him. "I'm just gonna grab a chair to sit on. I'm not going anywhere." Al grabbed the chair and moved it back to the bedside talking quietly the whole time to reassure Sam that he wasn't going anywhere.

Sam watched him move around the room through slitted eyes and once Al was seated reached a hand out through the bars of the safety rail. Al took the hand and tucked it back under the blanket but left his hand resting on Sam's blanket covered arm. "Go to sleep," he said.

Within minutes he felt the tenseness drain from the arm under his hand and Sam's breathing evened out and slowed down in sleep. Al breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to be resting comfortably and pulled his hand back and started to lean back in the chair. As soon as he did Sam started to stir again and didn't quiet down until Al returned his hand to his arm.

Al hitched the chair closer to the bed so he could sit more comfortably but still keep his hand resting on Sam. He didn't understand what was going on or why Sam was suddenly so clingy but if it kept him resting until the doctor got there he'd do whatever it took.


	69. Chapter 69

Al shifted slightly in the chair trying to get comfortable while still making sure he kept his hand resting on Sam. Every time he moved his hand away and lost contact with Sam he'd start to stir and only quiet down when the feel of Al's hand returned. Al shifted in the chair again but couldn't find a comfortable position in the hard chair. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Sam that he'd come very close to not being able to get him off the floor and his back was reminding him of it now. Finally he couldn't take the discomfort anymore and stood up. He'd be risking waking Sam up but if he didn't stretch out his back he wouldn't be able to move later.

Within moments of Al standing Sam started to stir in the bed rolling over onto his back. "It's ok, Sam. I'm still here," Al told him hoping that the sound of his voice would do what his touch had done. Sam quieted down again and Al took the opportunity to walk around the room and stretch the kinks out of his back. He'd circled around to the other side of the room when he heard Sam start to stir again and walked back to the bed. This time Sam didn't respond to either his voice or his touch and he blinked his eyes open to stare at Al groggily.

"Was I sleeping?" Sam asked his voice still tinged with sleepiness.

Al took note that Sam still seemed a bit glassy-eyed and not quite with it so he proceeded with caution. "For a little while."

Sam swallowed before talking. "I still don't feel good."

That piece of information Al hadn't needed. It had been an easy guess that Sam was feeling as bad now as he had been before he'd gone to sleep. "The Doc'll be here soon. You wanna try drinking some water again?"

Sam mulled the question over before agreeing. He tried to push himself up to sit in the bed but didn't get very far.

"Hey, hey, easy there," Al cautioned using the controls on the bed to bring it up. "Let's let the bed do all the work for you." Once Sam was sitting up Al poured out a glass of water for him.

When he started to hold the cup with the straw to Sam's lips Sam reached for the cup. "I can hold it myself," he said.

Al wasn't so sure Sam could hold his head up let alone the cup of water but surrendered it to his grasp all the same putting his hand over Sam's to help steady it. "Drink it slow," he advised.

Sam drank down a little more water than he had earlier before he letting Al take the cup He reached up to rub his temples.

"Headache?" Al asked after putting the cup down.

Sam nodded his agreement. "It's sort of a dull ache. Not bad just….there."

"Well, I'm sure they'll give you something for it as soon as Dr. Gleason sees you. I wish I knew what was taking him so long," Al said looking at his watch.

As if conjured by Al's words the door to the room opened and Dr. Gleason came in. "Seems you were a little impatient about me getting back here," he said with a smile. "Most of my patients don't take to falling on the floor when they want to see me."

Both Sam and Al looked back at Dr. Gleason in silence. Neither of them could see any humor in the situation.

"Ok, then," Dr. Gleason said. "Let's take a look and see how you're doing." He took the chart off the foot of the bed and scanned through it in silence before hanging it back up.

"It seems you were feeling lightheaded and had some blurry vision earlier," he said pulling a small penlight from his pocket. "Is it still the same, better or has it worsened?"

"It's still there," Sam said. "It just feels like the world's going in circles…or maybe I am. I've got a headache, too."

"Mmm hmmm," Dr. Gleason murmured non-committedly. He shined the small light in both of Sam's eyes checking his pupil reaction before holding it up in front of Sam's face and asking him to follow it with just his eyes. "When's the last time you put anything in your stomach besides water?" as he slipped the light back in his pocket.

Sam's brow furrowed as he thought about it. "Not since dinner last night."

"He didn't eat that much of it either," Al added.

"Have you been able to hold down water?" Dr. Gleason asked.

"I had some a little while ago and it's staying put."

"Good, good. How about the nausea?"

Sam shrugged not understanding the battery of questions. "Still there. I don't think it's as bad, though."

"That's good. I'm going to have the lab come down and draw blood again. I want a check on your blood sugar levels but I think right now it's safe to say that you're probably skirting with hypoglycemia since you haven't had anything substantial since yesterday. That's most likely what's causing the blurry vision and lightheadedness and your headache. What we need to start doing is to get you blood sugar back up. The dextrose in the IV is doing a good deal toward that but it would help if you started taking it in orally as well. I want you to try drinking some juice and if you tolerate that well we'll move on to some clear broth. Once you start upping your sugar intake you'll find that most of your symptoms will be relieved."

"That's it?" Al questioned surprised. "Drink some juice and have some broth and you'll be fine?"

Dr. Gleason put out a placating hand to Al. "Admiral, I know it probably seems like nothing's being done but all of the symptoms described certainly lead toward a diagnosis of hypoglycemia caused from the vomiting Sam was doing earlier as well as the lack of any kind of food going into him. The best treatment for that is to do just what I'm recommending. If he can drink and hold down some juice you'll notice a difference within an hour."

"There's nothing you can do other than that?" Al asked.

"There are other alternatives, Admiral but none of them would be advisable without first getting back the lab results. If it is something other than hypoglycemia causing the symptoms an injection of glucagons or starting a glucose IV could send him in the other direction to hyperglycemia which is just as bad. Generally speaking, by the time the lab results get back verifying a case of mild hypoglycemia the condition can already be corrected by ingesting something with carbohydrates. This is the safest treatment right now."

"Well what if it's not just mild? What if it's worse than that?" Al asked his thinking slipping into "worst case scenario" mode?"

"If it were," Sam said from the bed, "I probably wouldn't be awake and talking to you or if I were awake I probably wouldn't be very coherent."

Al looked between the two, "Ok, I give up, I know when I'm beat. So we just feed him juice and it'll be fine."

"Pretty much, although you don't just want to force it all at once or we're going to be back to square one with the vomiting." Dr. Gleason switched his attention back to Sam. "I'm going to have some apple juice brought in for you since it's pretty bland. I'd like you to try to get about 4 ounces down within 15 – 20 minutes. Don't force it all at once and if the nausea gets worse stop and let the nurse know. I've prescribed Compazine on an "as-needed" basis to combat the nausea so if you need it, let someone know. If you have no problem with the juice then you can move on and try some broth or jello but if the vomiting starts again then you stop everything. You don't need to complicate things by getting even more dehydrated. Do you have any questions?"

Sam shrugged. "Any idea when I can get out of here?"

"Sorry, Sam," Dr. Gleason apologized. "That's something I really can't make a guess at right now – at least until you're over this bout of gastroenteritis and your blood tests are coming back at acceptable levels."

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I kind of thought that's what you were going to say."

"Well, it's the best thing for you right now that you're here where we can keep an eye on you and get things straightened out. Until that happens I'm also restricting you to that bed and no where else. You don't need to be taking anymore dives to the floor. I know that's not what you want to hear but…."

Sam cut off Dr. Gleason before he could finish, "It's in my own best interest."

"Right. I'll be back to check on you after I get the lab results back." Dr. Gleason started to walk toward the door before hesitating and turning back to Al. "Could I see you outside for a moment, Admiral?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure." Al agreed although he was confused as to why the doctor wanted to see him outside of Sam's room. "I'll be right out."

Al waited until the doctor had left the room before moving to stand by the side of the bed again. "I'm just gonna be outside for a few minutes, Sam, but I'll be right back, ok?"

Sam licked his lips and looked around the room before looking back to Al with a slight look of panic in his eyes. "O…ok but you'll come back, right?"

Al again took note of the sudden clinginess in Sam. "Yeah, I'll be right back. You have my word."

"Ok. I'll be ok," Sam said although the tremor in his voice said the opposite.

Al didn't say anything else to Sam but patted him on the shoulder and followed Dr. Gleason out the door. He knew there was nothing he could say that would allay Sam's sudden fear of being alone.

"Ok, what's going on?" he asked Dr. Gleason as soon as the door shut behind him.

"Going on?" Dr. Gleason questioned.

"Yeah, what's going on? I've got a feeling it's more than you were saying in there. What's going on with Sam that you didn't want him to hear?" Al demanded.

"I can assure you, Admiral, I suspect nothing more than what I said in the room."

"If there's nothing else wrong with Sam why's he so clingy all of a sudden and grabbing onto me like I was his teddy bear and why'd you call me out here?"

Dr. Gleason struggled to hold back the smile that wanted to break out as he got an image of the gruff Admiral in front of him as someone's teddy bear. "His emotional state right now is just one more symptom of his lowered blood sugar," Dr. Gleason explained once he had his humor in check. "What I actually called you out here for is to see if you're ok.

"Me?" Al asked in surprise. "I'm fine. What makes you thinks something's wrong with me?"

"You seem to be moving rather stiffly." Dr. Gleason explained.

"Oh, well, have you tried sitting in those chairs for hours on end? You'd be a stiff, too."

"I can't say I have but it seems to me it's more than that. You didn't, by chance, hurt yourself trying to lift Sam, did you?"

Al shrugged off the doctor's concern. "It's nothing a hot shower won't take care of. I guess I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Hmmm," Dr. Gleason said not totally convinced. "You might want to try taking some ibuprofen before you stiffen up more then."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks, Doc." Al started to turn back to the room already dismissing Dr. Gleason's concerns from his mind before he looked back over his shoulder. "You're sure he's going to be ok?" he asked.

"I see no reason why he shouldn't. I'll have someone come in momentarily with the juice for him."

Al grunted his thanks and pushed his way back into the room.

Sam was anxiously looking at the door when Al walked in and he visibly breathed a sigh of relief to see his return.

"See, told you I'd come right back," Al assured coming over to the bed.

"I know, Al. I don't know why I feel so…" Sam's voice trailed off and he shrugged at loss to explain how he was feeling.

"I know, Kid. Just give it a little more time. Doc says once you get some juice into you you'll start to feel better."

"Hmm…who knew juice could be the wonder drug? I just hate that it feels like the world's going twice the speed I am."

Lydia came into the room with a cup of apple juice that she handed over to Sam and was quickly followed by the lab technician who'd come to draw blood. Al had to restrain himself from wanting to bodily remove the technician when he kept stabbing Sam repeatedly with the needle without hitting a vein.

"I guess they got the only good one with the IV," the tech said with a nervous laugh before trying again. Finally on the 5th try he succeeded in finding a vein, drew the blood and left. As he went through the door he threw a nervous look over his shoulder at Al.

"Down, boy," Sam said once the door was closed. "I think you almost scared him into wetting himself the way you were looking at him."

"He's lucky I didn't throw him out. What did he think you were? A pincushion or something? I thought they were supposed to be trained to do that."

"They are, Al. It's not always easy to find a vein when someone's been dehydrated. They didn't have any easier a time getting the IV started this morning." Sam suddenly squeezed his eyes closed tightly and leaned back against the pillow.

"Hey, you ok?" Al quickly asked.

"Yeah, everything just started to spin a little faster is all." Cautiously he opened his eyes and glanced over to the bedside table. "Can you hand me that?" he asked pointing to the cup of juice, "and we can see if it's going to stay put."

Al handed Sam the cup but didn't release his own hold on it until he was sure Sam had a steady enough grip on it. "Remember, he didn't say to drink it all down at once so take your time."

Sam took a small sip of the juice and seemed to brace himself expecting the worst. When it didn't seem like the juice had any intention of making a re-appearance after a minute he took another sip. He managed to get half of the juice down in 10 minutes before he quickly handed it back to Al. "I can't," he gasped out. "I'm gonna be sick again."

Al quickly grabbed the cup and put it down on the table again and grabbed the emesis basin instead so he could be prepared if Sam wasn't able to hold down the juice. Sam had taken on a decidedly green tinge and another bout of vomiting looked very possible.

"Ok, Sam. Just try to breathe through it and not think about it," Al said.

Sam didn't say anything in return but the glare he gave Al said it all.

"Ok, I know it's hard not to think about it," Al corrected himself. "Why don't you buzz and get some of the stuff that's supposed to stop the pukies."

Sam carefully nodded his head and pushed the button. Once he'd done that he leaned his head further into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a thin line obviously fighting not to bring the juice back up.

"You need something for nausea?" Lydia asked when she came in the room and saw how still Sam was keeping himself.

"Yeah, he does," Al answered. "He got about half the juice down but it's threatening to come back up."

"I'll be right back."

Lydia quickly returned and administered the shot of Compazine. Even after the injection Sam still kept himself very still with his eyes closed for the next little while until he started to feel it take effect.

"Feeling better now?" Al asked when he finally opened his eyes.

"Yeah, it's starting to calm down," Sam answered. "Can you give me that cup back so I can finish it?"

Al handed the Sam the cup hesitantly. "You sure it's a good idea, Sam. You don't want to aggravate things anymore do you?"

"It'll be ok, Al. Besides, I'm getting kind of thirsty." He took the cup from Al and began to sip at the remaining juice. "Hey, what'd Dr. Gleason want to talk to you outside for?" he asked suddenly curious.

"Ah, he wanted to make sure I was ok. He thought I was moving around a little stiffly." Al brushed off the doctor's concern and hoped that Sam would just let it go.

"You hurt your back, didn't you?" Sam asked.

"No, I did not hurt my back. It's just a little stiff is all. They don't exactly have the most comfortable furniture here."

"Don't try to cover it up, Al. You hurt yourself trying to help me up didn't you?" Sam accused.

"I didn't hurt myself," Al explained. "It just sore muscles is all. A hot shower and I'll be good as new."

"Then why don't you go back to the hotel and take that hot shower," Sam challenged.

"Because right now I'm here with you. Now it's fine so let's just let it rest, ok?" Al changed the subject reaching to take the cup from Sam that was now empty. "You still feeling ok?"

Sam rubbed a hand over his eyes that were starting to get heavy. "'M ok. Just getting sleepy."

"Well, that stuff seems to have that effect on you. Why don't you try to get some more sleep. You look like you could use a couple of days' worth of it." Al put the bed back down and tucked the blanket in again not waiting for any kind of agreement from Sam although as fast as the Compazine now seemed to be affecting him Al didn't think it mattered. Within minutes Sam had drifted off to sleep.

Al again started to wander around the room and stopped by the window and looking out it at the city below. The sun was starting to set and lights were starting to come on in buildings. "What else are you gonna throw his way?" he asked quietly looking up at the night darkened sky. Despite the fact that he'd long ago given up his faith in God he still couldn't deny that there was a higher power there – he just didn't believe that that higher power listened to the prayers of the mere mortals on earth. "What's he done to deserve all this that you just keep throwing one thing after another at him. Can't you give him a break now?"

He continued standing at the window staring out at the darkening night and soon lost all track of time. He was only jolted back to the present by the rumbling in his stomach and it was then that he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning. Was it really only this morning, he asked himself, that he'd set off in such a rush to the hospital with the expectation that he'd be coming back to the hotel a short time later with Sam next to him? It seemed like the day had become a lifetime.

Turning away from the window he fished through the pile of file folders that had been left in the room until he found the blank pad of paper. He scribbled a quick note on it telling Sam that he'd gone down to the cafeteria to get something to eat and that he'd be back shortly. He underlined the words "I promise" several times to be sure he conveyed the meaning to Sam. Even though Sam hadn't seemed quite as clingy before falling to sleep and was still sleeping peacefully without needing the constant contact with Al, Al wasn't completely reassured that it was just a simple matter of him needing to drink a glass of juice. It just seemed to be too simple of a fix and the way things had been going, nothing was simple.

He tucked the note under Sam's hand where he'd be sure to find it if he awoke being careful not to wake him and left the room to head down to the cafeteria. He stopped by the nurses' station on his way to the elevator bank to tell Lydia where he was going. She assured him that should Sam wake up and look for him she'd make sure he knew where Al was.


	70. Chapter 70

Al stood in front of the elevators tapping his foot impatiently. He just wanted to go down to the cafeteria as quickly as he could, get something to eat and come back up. When the doors finally opened Dr. Gleason stepped out of the elevator. "Admiral, I was just coming by to check on Sam again."

"He's sleeping right now," Al told the doctor. "That stuff does a pretty good job of knocking him out." As Dr. Gleason walked up the corridor in the direction of Sam's room, Al walked with him.

"That can be a side effect of it. I just got back the results on his latest blood work."

"And…" Al prompted.

"And it's just as I suspected. His blood sugar was off and that's what was causing the additional symptoms he's been having. Did he manage to drink down the juice?"

"He almost didn't but he finally got it all down."

"Good, that's good. He should be feeling a lot better when he wakes up. I'm not going to wake him right now. The rest will do him a world of good as well since it's giving his body a chance to heal itself but I did want to let you know the test results. They'll be drawing blood again in a few hours to make sure his levels are coming up and holding steady but I don't see any reason why they wouldn't."

"So he should be over this then?" Al asked.

"For the most part. He's not going to bounce back from the gastroenteritis that quickly. He's going to have to work gradually up to the point where he's eating again and he'll probably be feeling a bit queasy for a while. I'd say at least another couple of days for that. So long as his blood sugar levels remain steady I'll lift the bed rest restriction so that he can start getting up again but not before tomorrow. I want to make sure he's strong enough for that. He got lucky today that you were able to cushion the fall so no damage was done. He might not be so lucky the next time."

"Well, he'll be happy to hear he's not stuck in bed for too long this time." Al's stomach rumbled again reminding him that he hadn't put any food in it for awhile.

"I think I'd better let you be on your way," Dr. Gleason said with a slight smile. "Wouldn't want you to be in the same straits next. Just so you know, I'm going to be off this weekend. Dr. Chandler will be covering for me and I'll make sure he's fully briefed. I know I'm probably wasting my breath saying this, Admiral, but you really shouldn't spend the night here. Go on back to your room and get some rest for yourself. Sam will probably sleep through most of the night from a combination of the drugs and just general weakness so he won't know one way or the other if you're here."

"We'll see," was Al's response. "If he wants me to stay, I'm staying."

"Like I said, I was probably wasting my breath."

Al nodded his agreement at Dr. Gleason and turned back down the corridor in the direction of the elevators.

"Admiral," Dr. Gleason called after him, "you might want to drop by the gift shop on your way and get some of that ibuprofen."

Al waved his acknowledgement of Dr. Gleason's words over his shoulder and kept walking. He'd planned on making that stop anyway. When the elevator came he got inside thankful that no one else was there and jabbed the button for the lower level. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered as the doors closed.

--------------------

Sam had still been sleeping when Al got back to the room and kept on sleeping for another few hours. By the time he surfaced from sleep again it was nearly the end of visiting hours. He lay quietly in the bed looking across at Al. The only light in the room came from the small light on the wall and the TV that Al was intently watching. The sky was black as pitch outside the window with no moon or starts to brighten it.

Since Al didn't seem to be aware that Sam was awake he took the time to study his face and realized how haggard he'd become. "He's always here taking care of everything I need," Sam thought. "He must have forgotten about himself."

"Al," Sam tried to call out his voice still rusty from sleep. He cleared his throat and tired again, "Al."

Al blinked a few times after hearing his name like a man just waking up before rubbing his hands over his face. "Sam, I didn't know you were awake," he said getting up from the chair and coming over to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, not as lightheaded as before and things aren't blurry either. I think I should be asking you that instead, though."

"What do you mean, you should be asking me? There's nothing wrong with me."

"Al, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately. You look like you haven't gotten a good night's sleep in a month. Go on back to your hotel room and get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

Al passed a hand through his hair and down to rub the back of his neck. "I'm fine, Sam. Just a little tired."

Sam pushed himself up straighter in the bed. "You're not just a 'little' tired, Al. You're a lot tired. Please just go on and get some rest before you fall over." He looked at Al beseechingly. "I need you too much for that to happen."

Al huffed out a small laugh. "Yeah, otherwise you'd have to go face the man-eaters on the committee by yourself."

Sam sucked in a small breath wondering, for just a fleeting moment, if that's how Al thought he saw him – as just a means to an end. "You know I don't mean it like that, Al." He unknowingly echoed back words that Al had said several days previous. "You're more important than the project."

"I'm sorry, Sam." Al said immediately apologetic. "I shouldn't have said that. You're right, I am tired and I'm getting a little grumpy but I'm not so tired I have to go bed yet."

"A little grumpy?" Sam questioned raising his eyebrows. "I know a lab tech who'd say a lot grumpy from the looks you were giving him."

"Yeah, well, he gets better at his job I won't scare the pants off him. It's as easy as that."

"Next time I'll just send you out of the room. I'm serious, though, go on back and get some rest."

Al opened his mouth to argue with Sam but closed it and seemed to think for a moment. "I'll tell you what, let's make a deal."

"Great, now you're Monty Hall."

"Ha, ha. Just listen would ya? They just dropped off some more juice and some jello for you a little while ago. You get that in you and then I'll leave. Deal?"

"That all depends. What color jello is it?"

Al grabbed the cup of jello off the table and pulled the cover off it and handed it to Sam with a spoon. "It's red, now eat it."

Sam put a small bite of it in his mouth and swallowed. "You drive a hard bargain."

Sam slowly and methodically ate the cup of jello. He didn't want to rush it for fear that it wouldn't sit well with his stomach and was happy that it went down without any trouble. When he'd emptied the jello cup Al took it from him and gave him the cup of juice in its place and he slowly started to sip on that.

"Dr. Gleason never came back," he said between sips.

"He did but you were asleep. He had your blood tests back. Turns out he was right and your blood sugar was low. He said you'd probably be feeling better when you woke up. I guess he was right about that, too."

Sam took another sip of the juice. "Funny thing with hypoglycemia, it makes you feel like hell but as long as it's not too bad the cure's actually pretty simple." Sam finished emptying the cup of juice and handed it back to Al before stifling a yawn. "Geez, all I've done is sleep all day, I can't believe I'm still tired."

Al disposed of the cup and started to tidy up around the room. "Yeah, well, when you were awake it was a pretty busy day for you. That's probably why you're so tired. Oh, you'll be happy to know that the doc said you can start getting out of bed again tomorrow as long as your next blood tests are ok. He said they'd be coming in later for that."

"Oh boy," Sam said dryly, "something to look forward to." Sam stifled another yawn and watched for a while as Al seemed to find something in every corner of the room that needed straightening. "Al," he finally said, "I thought we had a deal. I ate the jello and drank the juice now you go home…uh…back to the hotel."

Al finally stopped his tidying and stood at the foot of the bed. "Yeah, ok, Sam. You need anything else, though."

"Just for you to go get some rest and not come back tomorrow. I'll be fine by myself and it's pretty selfish on my part if I expect you to be here every day."

"In case you missed it, Kiddo, you got hit by a car. You're allowed to be selfish. You're even allowed to be self-centered and grumpy if you want and I'll even give you a little self-pity as long as you don't over do it. Once you're out of here and recovered then you can go back to putting everyone ahead of yourself and don't argue with me. I'm too tired for that." Al softened his words with a smile and grabbed his jacket from where he'd left it and pulled it on. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said with finality. "Try to get some sleep yourself and have a good night."

"At least don't get here early, huh?" Sam tried to compromise.

"Sounds like you're getting tired of my company," Al joked.

Sam missed the humor in Al's words. Even though he was feeling better since he'd woken up emotionally he still felt a little off and he took seriously what was meant as a joke. "I didn't mean that, Al. Honest," he earnestly said. His words came so fast they were tripping over each other. "I don't know how I'd be sane if you hadn't been here everyday. I just don't want you to over do it. I…."

Sam's words were cut off when Al clamped a hand over his mouth. "Sam, you need to get more sleep, then you'd know I was only joking" he explained.

"Oh," Sam replied. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for." Al put the bed down to that Sam's head was only elevated slightly and tucked the blankets around his shoulders. "Why don't you try to get a little sleep before Dracula gets back and don't worry about tomorrow. It'll come soon enough."

"Ok," Sam agreed pulling himself over to his side and snuggling down under the blankets. The little spurt of energy he'd felt when he first woke up was all but drained away. "Have a good night, Al."

"You too, Kid," Al replied. Sam barely felt it as Al ghosted his hand over his head brushing his hair back and was just barely aware of the door closing behind Al.


	71. Chapter 71

Al felt like he was on autopilot driving back to the hotel. Thankfully there wasn't much traffic so his slight inattentiveness to his driving caused no problems. He was just ready to enter to the elevator when he heard his name being called from behind and turned around to see the young woman behind the desk waving him over. Ordinarily he would have taken the opportunity he was being presented with for, at the least, a little harmless flirtation but he just didn't feel up to it tonight.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, I don't mean to bother you but you have a couple of messages," she said handing him the slips of paper.

Al grunted his thanks and took the messages from her before going back over to the elevators. All three messages were from Katie or Thelma Beckett. "Damn," he said to himself when he saw them. They'd known that Sam was supposed to be released from the hospital today and must have been worrying all day about where they were. It hadn't even crossed his mind to call them and update them on the situation and it had apparently slipped Sam's mind as well, not that he could blame him.

Walking through the open elevator doors he slammed the button that would take him to his floor. "Can anything else possibly get anymore wrong?" he wondered out loud sagging against the back of the elevator. He was starting to know what Atlas felt like with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Walking into the room he took off his coat and threw it onto one of the beds before slouching down on the other one and grabbing the phone and dialing the number that would put him in touch with Sam's mother. He spoke to both Mrs. Beckett and Katie explaining to them the change in Sam's release and allaying their fears. He felt it best not to mention Sam's fall or his bout with hypoglycemia.

When he finally hung up the phone he breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the pillows. He stayed there for a few minutes before getting up from the bed and getting together what he'd need to take a shower. The ibuprofen he'd taken earlier had helped to dull the pain of the overworked muscles in his back a great deal but now they were again screaming for relief and he knew the best thing would be a nice hot shower.

Al had no idea how long he stayed in the shower with the hot water cascading over his back; he just knew he was extremely grateful for the near limitless supply of hot water that the hotel had. Finally he turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain and reached out for the towel he'd hung nearby. Wrapping it around his waist he started to step over the edge of the tub and stopped short. "Damn," he said realizing that there was no way Sam would be able to get in and out of the shower on his own. He'd need help for the foreseeable future and he wasn't going to be happy with that.

Al finished drying and getting dressed and once he was done started walking around the room and the bathroom tidying them up. As he did he realized that the set-up of the room wouldn't work for Sam at all. The room was on the small side and although it was sufficient for him, and under normal circumstances would have been fine even sharing the room with Sam, he could easily see Sam tripping over furniture with the crutches. He'd have to do something about that. Tomorrow, he decided. There'd be plenty of time tomorrow to get the room changed.

With the room tidied he sank down into the armchair in the room and lit a cigar and snagged the remote off the table. It was time for him to just relax and try to forget about the hellish day. He'd only taken a few puffs off the cigar when he gave it a long look realizing that was something else that would have to change once Sam was released. There was no way he'd be able to smoke around him. Although the pneumonia was clearing up and Sam was no longer given to shortness of breath or the painful bouts of coughing his lungs were still healing from both the injury and illness. Dr. Gleason had told them that it would take some weeks before he'd be back to 100. There was no way Sam would be able to tolerate smoke in the room. He might not enjoy having to go without smoking but he was more than willing to do it for Sam's sake.

After making several circuits of the available channels and not finding anything worth watching Al turned off the TV and tossed the remote back onto the table before putting out the cigar. It didn't matter that it was still on the early side – at least for Al. He was exhausted and the bed was calling to him. He made sure the locks were all on before turning out the lights and climbing into bed. His one fleeting thought before sleep carried him away was that he'd be able to get a solid night's sleep and that the next day would be more promising than this one had been.


	72. Chapter 72

Al arrived at the hospital during the late morning. After a restless night he'd ended up sleeping later than was normal but he figured Sam would forgive him this time. With any luck the doctor had already come by on morning rounds and they'd have some idea of where they stood with everything.

Pushing the door open to Sam's room he took it as a positive sign when he saw him out of bed and sitting in the chair by the window. It looked as if he'd been reading again but had fallen asleep doing so. The open book was resting in his lap with a hand loosely holding it in place. His head had fallen forward so that his chin was nearly touching his chest. Al gently pulled the book from Sam's grasp laying it down open on the bed before lightly shaking Sam's shoulder and calling his name. He knew if he let him continue sleeping in that position when Sam woke up he'd have an awful crick in his neck.

Al had to call Sam's name several times before he finally broke through the bonds of sleep and he woke up. Lifting his head up straight Sam reached up to rub his neck and winced.

"Al? When did you get here?" he asked as he kept rubbing and stretching.

"Just now. I wouldn't have woken you up but that didn't look like a very comfortable position to sleepin." Al batted Sam's hand away and reached to firmly rub the tenseness out of the back of his neck.

"Thanks," Sam said once Al let go of his neck. "I can't believe I keep falling asleep."

"Your body needs the rest. Let's face it, yesterday took a lot out of you…no pun intended." Al sat down in the chair opposite Sam. "I take it the doctor was in to see you since you don't have your friend anymore." When Sam look befuddled Al hastened to explain, "The IV's gone again."

"Oh, yeah. Dr. Chandler was in early this morning. He said my last blood tests came back with everything where is should be and since the more unpleasant symptoms of the gastroenteritis were clearing up I didn't need it anymore. No word on when I can get out though. He said that's up to Dr. Gleason and he won't be back until Monday morning. Looks like I'm stuck here for the weekend," Sam said glumly.

"Well, look at it this way," Al said in an attempt to cheer him up, "at least by then you'll be done with the antibiotics and you won't have to stick yourself."

Sam just shrugged off Al's attempt. "Can you hand me the crutches," he asked.

Al grabbed the crutches and held them out in front of Sam helping him out of the chair. "Are you supposed to be getting up?" Al asked.

"I didn't fly over here," Sam quickly answered concentrating more on getting his balance than answering Al.

As Sam started to move slowly across the room Al matched him step for step. "Well, ok. Where are you going?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sam lightly responded. Now that he had his balance and had started moving it was easier. "I thought I'd wander down to the White House and see how the president was doing." He took a quick look out of the corner of his eye at Al who didn't seem to be amused by his attempt at humor. "The restroom, Al. I'm only going to the restroom and I know the drill. Leave the door open." As he crossed the threshold into the bathroom Sam looked back over his shoulder at Al. "You know what I'm really going to enjoy when I get out of here? Getting to close the door behind me while I'm in the bathroom. I'm starting to feel like I'm on exhibit or something."

"Hey, look at it this way," Al said, "at least the bathroom doesn't face the door so if someone comes in they can't see you."

While Sam took care of the call of nature in the bathroom Al leaned on the wall beside the door. He was relieved that Sam seemed to be so much better than he was yesterday. His energy level might still be low but seeing him up and moving around with some of his humor back was a far cry from the pathetic ball of misery he'd been yesterday.

"All set?" Al asked when Sam appeared in the doorway.

Sam didn't bother to answer Al's question setting off across the room again. He was nearly to the bed when his energy started to flag and his steps started to falter.

"Hey, you ok?" Al asked worried. "You're not gonna take another swan dive on me are you?"

"No," Sam answered stopping to rest a few steps from the bed. "I just need a second."

Al hovered close by ready to grab Sam should it look like he was getting ready to take another journey to the floor. After a minute's rest Sam completed the trip to the bed and sat down on the side of it.

"So much for starting to get my energy back," he groused. "I feel like it's a game of one step forward and two steps back."

"Yeah, well yesterday was your last step back," Al said with finality taking the crutches from him.

"Oh yeah?" Sam lightly asked. "Did you get that in writing from someone?"

"Nope, just have faith that things are only going to go up now. You gonna lie down?" he asked when Sam continued to just sit on the bed.

"No, I wanted to do some of the ROMs. I figured you could help me. I didn't do any yesterday and there's no therapy on the weekends so if I don't do some by myself I'm just going to stiffen up again."

"You sure you're up for this right now?" Al asked. In all honesty although Sam seemed better than he was yesterday and his face wasn't quite the same ashen white it had been he was still quite pale. Just the trek from the restroom to the bed had tired him out and Al wasn't totally sure he'd be up to doing the exercises.

"Don't worry, Al. It's not like I'm going to over do it. Before that happens I'll just fall asleep."

Somewhat mollified Al helped Sam go through a series of the mobility exercises. They concentrated mostly on his hip which was still giving him the most trouble. Al dreaded when it came time for Sam to lie on his side with his leg pulled back. So far every time they'd done that it had caused him the most pain and discomfort and he wasn't anxious for a replay of it. That's why he was surprised when at the end of five minutes Sam didn't express any discomfort or try to move himself from the position. Al leaned over to get a good look at his face expecting to see it screwed up in pain. Instead Sam's face was relaxed in sleep with the lines of pain smoothed out. True to his word, it didn't matter what he was doing, when his body had had enough he'd simply fallen asleep.

Al pulled the pillows out from under Sam's chest that he'd been leaning against preparatory to rolling him onto his back. He didn't bother because as soon as the pillows were free Sam rolled completely onto his stomach with his arms coming up around the pillow. Al pulled the blanket up over him to his shoulders leaving him in what was obviously a comfortable position. Jo had mentioned at Sam's last therapy session on Thursday that it was actually a beneficial position for Sam if he could tolerate it because it would also help to stretch out the muscles in his hip. He made sure the bed was flat to spare Sam any kinks in his back.

Sure that Sam was comfortable; he slouched down in the chair and rested his feet on the end of the bed to wait until Sam woke up. When the nurse filling in for Diane came in a little while later to check on Sam she found both men sound asleep and snoring softly

Al was brought abruptly awake when Sam shifted his position in bed and knocked Al's feet to the floor with a resounding thump. "Huh? Wha?" he muttered looking sleepily around the room and rubbing a hand over his face. Looking at his watch he realized he'd lost a little over an hour and was surprised that he'd fallen asleep.

Sam slept on in the bed oblivious to Al's sudden wake up call. He'd curled up on his left side around his pillow and was completely relaxed. Looking at him Al could almost convince himself that nothing was wrong and Sam was just taking a quick power nap after pulling another all-nighter. Unfortunately the softly muted sounds of the PA system and the antiseptic smell of the room spoke volumes about where they were.

The door opened behind Al and a staff member from the kitchen came in with Sam's lunch tray and deposited it on the bed table and left. Al lifted up the cover and peeked at what was there pleased to see that Sam was back to eating solid foods. A small, round pink sticker on the menu that was returned with each lunch tray indicated that Sam had been placed on a bland diet.

Much as he'd rather not wake the sleeping man, Al knew it was just as important that Sam get food into him. He gently jostled his shoulder and called out his name.

Sam lifted his head up off the pillow and looked at Al blinking owlishly. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked.

"You sure did but now it's time for you to wake up and eat some lunch." Al nudged Sam's shoulder encouraging him to roll over onto his back so he could bring the bed up.

Sam gave into the nudging rubbing at his eyes. "It's time for lunch? I just ate breakfast a little while ago."

"I don't know what time you ate breakfast, Kiddo," Al said as he moved the tray over Sam's lap, "but it's already after noon so it's definitely lunch time." He pulled the cover off the tray to reveal a small piece of broiled chicken as well as some boiled rice and a cup of broth. There was also a cup of applesauce and a cup of hot water and a teabag.

Sam looked over the lunch offerings and made a face.

"I know, it doesn't look like much flavor wise," Al agreed misinterpreting Sam's reaction to the food.

"That's probably a good thing." Sam said while still looking at the food dubiously. "I'm just not sure if I can eat it. My stomach's still not feeling too great and the sight of food doesn't help it out any. I barely managed the toast and applesauce they wanted me to eat for breakfast."

"Well, the doc said it was going to take a little while for you to get your appetite back. Just try to eat what you can. I doubt they're going to let you out of here unless you're back to eating solids again."

"I guess," Sam sighed. He picked up a small forkful of the rice and gingerly put it in his mouth. Al watched him like a hawk while he ate his lunch slowly and methodically encouraging him to try just a little more when he seemed to be flagging. Finally Sam managed to get the majority of the rice and apple sauce down and a small amount of the chicken before he put down the fork and refused to eat anything else.

"C'mon, Sam, try another bite of the chicken," Al encouraged. "You need to get some protein into you."

Sam resolutely shook his head "no". "I can't Al. If I eat anymore I'm going be sick and it's all just going to come back up." He made an aborted attempt to push the tray away before bringing his hand up to cover his mouth swallowing repeatedly. "I'm really gonna be sick," he forced out, his hand muffling his words.

Al swiftly grabbed the tray from the table and put it on the counter across the room out of Sam's sight. Pulling the table out of the way he sat down on the bed next to Sam. He reached one hand to rub and massage the side of Sam's neck and shoulder and ran the other up and down his left forearm "You're not going to be sick, Sam. You hear me. Just take a deep breath and let it out and concentrate on the feel of my hand on your arm." Al hoped that if he distracted Sam and made him think about anything other than the nausea he could avoid a bout of vomiting and keep the food that he'd eaten inside where it could d some good. He kept up the soothing one-sided conversation, "That's it. Take another deep breath. C'mon, you can do this." Finally he felt the tenseness start to leave Sam's body as he dropped down the hand that he'd held to his mouth.

"Feeling better now?" Al asked.

Sam nodded his head. "A little. Thanks."

Al stood up from the bed. "Don't mention it. Do you think you can try to drink some water now or do you think that's going to set things off again? You want to keep up your liquids."

"Can we wait a little while?" Sam quietly asked. "Just to make sure everything's gonna stay where it belongs."

"Sure thing, Kid. I tell you what, how about we play some cards and get your mind off of it for a little while. That sound like a good idea?"

"I guess," Sam agreed.

Al pulled the table back over Sam's lap and pulled out the deck of cards from the storage well and started to shuffle them. "So what'll it be?" he asked

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "Whatever you pick is fine," he said in a soft voice.

Al sighed and dealt out the cards to play Rummy. He didn't think Sam had it in him to play poker right now. The bout of nausea had sapped him of the determination he'd shown earlier.

Slowly as the two men became engrossed in the card game Al managed to draw Sam out of his dejected mood. He waited until Sam's attention was fully on the game before pouring out a glass of water and handing it to him and was pleased when the younger man kept sipping at it.

Eventually Sam's exhaustion caught up with him again and he nodded off in the middle of the game. Al took the cards from Sam's loosened grasp and put the bed down and arranged Sam into a comfortable sleeping position. The rest of the day ended up being much of the same. Sam would wake up for short periods of time before he'd once again give in to the siren call of sleep. Al knew that it was beneficial to Sam after the day he'd had yesterday but he still couldn't help being saddened to see that some of the ground Sam had gained over the last several days had so quickly been lost.

When he was awake Al had convinced Sam on a couple of occasions to eat a small snack. Dr. Chandler had come back in shortly after lunch to check on Sam and had advised that if he ate little but often it would be better for him than trying to eat everything all at once. He'd done a good job tolerating a package of crackers and a small cup of jello and when dinner time came he'd managed to get just a little bit more down before giving up.

Long before visiting hours were over Sam started to drift off to sleep again and Al was fairly sure that once he was asleep he'd probably stay that way for the night.

"Hey, Sammy," he called quietly not wanting to startle him. Once sure he had Sam's attention he continued, "I'm gonna head out now and let you sleep. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Ok, Al," Sam mumbled half asleep.

"You want anything before I go?" When Sam just stared blankly up at him Al reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Sam, you want anything before I go."

"Uh, no. I'm all set, Sam replied rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Ok, then, I'll see you tomorrow morning," Al told him as he pulled on his coat.

"Yeah. Don't forget to take something for your back again," Sam admonished. Though Al's back wasn't any where near as sore as it had been yesterday, the hot shower last night and the one before he came to the hospital had done wonders, it was still bothering him. Staying still for very long would cause the muscles to stiffen up and Sam had noticed it a couple of times.

"I won't, Kid. You just worry about yourself. Have a goodnight."

"You too, Al. Thanks"

Al twitched the blanked into place. "Nothing to thank me for, Sam. Just have a good night."


	73. Chapter 73

When Al got back to the hotel the first thing he did was stop at the front desk and asked to speak to the manager. He briefly explained the situation and how the room he was currently in wouldn't be suitable for Sam in his current condition and asked if there were any other rooms that would be more suitable. The manager offered to switch the room to a handicapped accessible one that had a shower stall in it that would be easier for Sam to get into and out of with limited assistance. The room itself was also bigger overall which would make his maneuvering around in it easier.

Al thanked the manager and took the key to the new room from him. Luckily it was on the same floor he was currently on so that would make it easier to move his and Sam's belongings into it. He promised to bring the key from the room he was currently back down to the desk after he'd made the switch.

Once up in his room it took relatively little time for Al to pack the few items that he'd unpacked and move everything over to the new room. As the manager had promised, it was much roomier and Sam would be able to move around it with ease without tripping over any of the furniture.

Gathering up a clean set of clothes and his shave kit Al went into the bathroom to take another hot shower. He was pleased to see that not only was the bathroom equipped with a shower stall in addition to the but, but there were also safety rails attached to the walls. Like the room itself, the bathroom was much roomier than the one in the old room. Al supposed that was so it could easily accommodate someone in a wheelchair. The shower stall was also quite large with a bench at one end of it. The setup would make it much easier for Sam to start to regain his independence and look after his needs himself with little or no assistance from Al.

Once he'd showered, dressed and shaved, Al grabbed his coat and headed out of the room. It was still early and since he hadn't bothered to grab any dinner while at the hospital he decided to go out for some relaxation. He dropped the key from the old room off at the front desk and walked through door whistling and with a spring to his step.

When he returned to the hotel a little over an hour later he wasn't as jovial. The longer he was out the more he started to feel like a sitcom mother who goes out and leaves her baby with a sitter for the first time and then spends the whole night worrying. The longer he was away the more he started thinking about what would happen if Sam should have some kind of relapse and the hospital couldn't get in touch with him. There wasn't anyone else close by that Sam could turn to. Eventually he'd hurriedly left the restaurant throwing down a handful of money to cover his meal and that of the lovely redhead he'd convinced to join him. He didn't even bother to take the time to explain to her what the problem was.

He had to restrain himself from running the distance back to the hotel and just barely kept himself at a fast walk. The first thing he did when he got to the hotel was rush up to the lobby desk. He waited impatiently while the lone employee took care of an elderly couple just checking in. Finally she was done taking care of them and turned her attention to Al.

"Name's Calavicci in room 615. Do I have any messages?" he demanded.

"Just a second and I'll check," was the overly cheerful answer.

Al drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter until she came back over to him.

"No, there are no messages for you, Sir."

"Are you sure," Al questioned. "I switched rooms earlier tonight. I was in 606. Are there any messages for me under that room."

"I didn't see any messages at all for Calavicci, Sir. I'm sorry," the desk clerk apologized.

"Could you check again," Al again demanded. "It's very important."

"Sure, just a second."

Again Al waited and drummed his fingers on the counter until she came back again.

"I'm sorry, Sir, there's nothing for you. There could be a message on your room phone," she suggested helpfully.

"Yeah, thanks," Al said before abruptly walking away to the elevator.

There were no messages for him – that had to be a good thing. Just because he'd gone out didn't mean that something awful had to happen. He had to stop thinking that way or he was going to make himself crazy and, by extension, he'd also drive Sam crazy too.

The first thing he did when he entered the room was to check the phone but there was no red glow on it telling him he had a message. He quickly picked up the receiver holding it to his ear to make sure there was a dial tone.

"Just stop it," he told himself as he hung up the phone. "You just went out for a little while and he's fine and he's gonna stay that way." Still, he couldn't stop himself from dialing the hospital and checking on how Sam was doing. It was only after he was assured that Sam was sleeping soundly and had been doing so since shortly after he'd left that Al finally allowed himself to relax again.

He stripped out of his clothes and carefully hung them up before grabbing Sam's tattered copy of the "The Three Musketeers" and sat down on the bed to read. An hour after he'd started reading he found his eyes getting heavy so he carefully marked his place in the book and put it down on the table between the two beds before turning off the light and lying down to sleep. He could only hope that tonight would prove more restful than the previous night had been.


	74. Chapter 74

Unfortunately for Al, his night ended up being just as restless as the one before. He couldn't figure out why, all of a sudden, it was so difficult for him to sleep.

With the weather gray and threatening to rain he took the car to the hospital instead of walking. With any luck this would be the last full day that Sam would be there and tomorrow he'd be released.

He forced himself to calmness when he pushed the door open to Sam's room and found that it was empty with the bed made up neatly. The last time that had happened Sam had simply been showering and he'd overreacted for nothing. He wasn't going to do that again.

Calmly he approached the nurses' desk and inquired as to Sam's whereabouts. He couldn't totally suppress the sigh of relief when he was told Sam was down in the solarium. He did remember to thank the volunteer behind the desk for the information before setting off down the hall to find Sam.

When he reached the solarium he stood for a moment in the doorway looking in at Sam. He was sitting on one of the sofas, his crutches leaning against the wall. Leaning up against him was a girl maybe 4 or 5 years old. Sam was animatedly reading a book to her and she would laugh occasionally at his sound effects. Al noticed the way she was gingerly leaning against Sam almost afraid that if she wasn't careful she'd hurt him.

Al took joy in just watching Sam interact with the little girl. It had never surprised him how well Sam always seemed to take to children. He'd be a natural as a father someday, Al thought.

Finally Sam caught sight of Al out of the corner of his eye and looked over to him and waved him in. There was a light in his eyes that Al hadn't seen since before the accident. "C'mon in Al and say hello to my friend Lauren. Her Dad's visiting with her Mom and I told him I'd keep Lauren company for a little while. This is my friend, Al," Sam said as he put his arm around her.

Al came fully into the room and pulled up a chair so he was sitting opposite Sam and Lauren. "Hi Munchkin," he said waving at the little girl.

Lauren giggled shyly and hid her face against Sam's side.

"Hmmm…I think someone's a little shy. What do you say, Sam, should I tickle her?" Al asked playfully while wiggling his fingers at the child.

"No," Lauren squealed from her place by Sam's side.

"Lauren," a male voice said from the door, "are you being a good girl?"

"Yes, Daddy," the little girl said peeking a glance at her father.

Lauren's father came into the room and lifted his daughter up from her place next to Sam. "I hope she wasn't a bother."

"Not at all, Mr. Jacobs," Sam assured.

The expression on Mr. Jacobs' face fell. "I never would have brought her with me but we have no one else here and…well…"

"Really, it's ok, Mr. Jacobs. I'm glad I could keep her entertained while you were with your wife," Sam assured the upset man. "I hope things work out well for you."

Mr. Jacobs leaned down setting Lauren on her feet. "Say goodbye to Mr. Beckett now, Lauren, it's time for us to be get going.

Lauren climbed up onto the couch next to Sam putting her arms around his neck and hugging him carefully. "Thank you for reading to me, Mr. Sam," she said quietly before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Sam returned the hug. "It was my pleasure, Lauren. That's a book I haven't gotten to read yet."

"Do you think we can read it again tomorrow?" she asked as she took the book from his hand.

Sam brushed long blonde curls from her face. "I don't know, Sweetie. I might be going home tomorrow but if not I'd love to read with you again."

Lauren hugged Sam again planting another kiss on his cheek before climbing off the sofa and taking her father's hand as the two of them walked out of the room.

"Bye, Munchkin," Al said with wave.

Lauren looked back and waved to him before giggling again and pressing up close to her father.

"New girlfriend?" Al asked once father and daughter had left the room.

Sam had a thoughtful look on his face as he watched them leave. "Hmmm…oh, Mr. Jacobs didn't have anyone to leave her with while he came to see his wife and they wouldn't let Lauren in the room. I was taking a walk in the corridor and offered to come down here with her and read. It gave me something to do and kept her distracted. I guess he figured I couldn't get anywhere with her like this. She's a sweet little girl."

"She seemed it. What's wrong with her mother?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm not really sure but I got the impression it was something pretty serious and her chances aren't very good. I hope she makes it for Lauren's sake."

Al looked back toward the doorway. "Yeah, me too."

The two men sat in silence for a while each wrapped up in their own thoughts. As serious as Sam's accident was, and as close as he'd come to being killed, at least he was on the mend and he would get well. There were some things to be thankful for. Still, Al couldn't help but think that he could have been in Mr. Jacobs' place. He could have been visiting Sam when there wasn't a very good chance of him pulling through. He could have been coming to say his goodbyes and breaking that awful news to Thelma Beckett. As bad as things had been, they could have been so much worse.

Al shook off his dark thoughts. "Hey, how are you feeling today? You look a lot better."

"I feel a lot better," Sam answered. "I still don't have much of an appetite but at least I don't feel like everything I eat is going to come right back up so I guess that's a start. With any luck I'll be out of here tomorrow."

"Hopefully, just don't get your heart set on it," Al cautioned.

"You don't think I'm ready to leave?" Sam questioned.

"It's not that, Sam. I just don't want you to get your hopes too high and then get stuck here another day. I'd like nothing better than for you to finally get out here but I'm trying to be a realist, too."

"Well, you be a realist, then. I'm gonna be an optimist. I'm getting out of here tomorrow and that's that."

Al had to give it to Sam. If sheer determination played any part in his being released it was going to happen. He was just afraid of what the consequences would be if it didn't.

Sam reached over to grab the crutches and pulled himself up from the couch.

"Going somewhere?" Al asked.

"Yeah, back to my room. I want to work more on the therapy exercises. The more I do them the sooner I'll be back to a hundred percent." Sam took off up the corridor headed for his room.

"Don't you think you're trying too hard, Sam?" Al called after him before rushing to catch up. Once he was abreast of Sam he repeated himself. "Don't you think you're trying too hard and pushing too much, Sam?" he asked. "It's ok to take a day off, you know. That's why they don't have any therapy appointments on the weekend."

Sam glanced over to Al. "I took a day off on Friday, remember, and if I'm getting out tomorrow I probably won't have any therapy then either so, no, I don't think I'm pushing myself. I want to get rid of these things," he said indicating the crutches. "I want to be able to walk on my own and get back to my own life and I'm not going to do that if I don't work at it whenever I can."

Al blew out a breath. "Stubborn as a mule," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Sam told him as he rounded the corner into his room.

"Good, cause you are. Just answer me this. Were you this bad as a kid?"

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and handed the crutches to Al who obediently took them and leaned the up against the all. He thought about Al's question for a second before answering. "I think I was worse, actually."

"Worse," Al asked in disbelief. "How the hell could you be worse than you are now?"

"Simple," Sam said with a shrug and a smirk, "I was a kid. Ever try reasoning with a kid who's bent on doing something? I didn't take "no" for an answer when I was little. Every time someone told me I couldn't do something I had to prove them wrong."

"I hate to tell you this, Kid, you still don't take "no" for an answer. You must have been a holy terror for your parents, then."

"Oh, no," Sam said sincerely. "Mom always said I got my stubbornness from Dad but she could out-stubborn us all. When she said "no" she meant "no" no matter how much I fought her on it. I don't think I ever won a battle of wills with her. I learned that pretty quick and Tom did, too. Katie, though, she's the one who always kept pushing at Mom. Now if you want to talk a holy terror it was her."

"Wait you're talking about your sister Katie, right. I can't believe she'd ever do anything to defy your parents. Then again, I can't see you doing it either."

"You didn't know her when she was younger. She was a bit on the wild side."

"This I gotta hear about," Al said pulling over a chair to sit down in.

"There's not much to tell," Sam shrugged. "Katie never liked being on the farm much. I would have thought when Dad lost the farm and they had to move in town she would have been happy – not happy about losing the farm but just about not having to be there anymore. She wasn't, though. Then Dad died and…I don't know," Sam helplessly shrugged. "Maybe she had to grow up too fast or something. She ran off and got married when she was 17. It nearly broke Mom's heart."

"I didn't know, Sam," Al softly said. He'd thought he'd hear some funny stories about Katie's wild side, not that she'd hurt anyone in the family.

Sam tried to shrug off Al's compassion. "I didn't know at the time either. I was too busy with school and wasn't there." He looked up at Al his eyes suddenly cold and hard. "She lost Dad and Tom really fast and she may as well have lost me, too. I was supposed to be her big brother. I was supposed to be the man of the family but instead of taking care of her and Mom I couldn't get my nose out of a book. Hell, I didn't even make it home for Dad's funeral."

Al was honestly shocked by Sam's confession. He always thought that the Beckett family had been a close, tight-knit family. It astounded him that Sam hadn't been there for his Dad's funeral. "I'm sure you had a good reason, Sam," Al offered.

Sam shrugged, "The bus broke down and I got stranded in some small town just outside of Pittsburgh. By the time the bus company got a replacement bus out there and I got home the funeral was over. Mom said she understood but I don't think she did – not for a long time. Katie, she was just so angry at me and the world. She blamed me for Dad's death. She said if I'd been in Elk Ridge instead of at MIT he wouldn't have had to work so hard." Sam shrugged again, "Maybe she was right. Maybe if I had been there it would have been different."

Al leaned over and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "There's no way it was your fault, Sam. I may never have met your father but from all you've ever told me about him I feel like I know him. If you'd wanted to leave school and stay at home would he have let you?"

Sam didn't answer, just silently shook his head "no".

"So how could it have been your fault?" Al asked reasonably.

"I should have been there," Sam insisted looking down at his lap. "At the least I should have been there for Mom and Katie after he died but instead I went back to Cambridge a week later and buried myself in my studies. I guess Katie felt like she was going to be tied to Elk Ridge for the rest her life. That's probably why she ran off with Chuck, so she could have her chance to get away and see the world. I guess I can't blame her for that."

"So whatever happened to Chuck?" Al asked.

When Sam looked up at Al the look in his eyes honestly frightened Al. He'd never seen a look of such hatred on Sam before. "The bastard would beat her up and we never knew about it until afterwards." Sam paused for a minute before clarifying, "I never knew about it. Not until she showed up at Mom's doorstep one Christmas Eve a couple of years later. We'd hardly seen her since she'd run off with Chuck and there she was shivering in the snow outside the door all bruised and battered. She told us she was leaving him and asked Mom if she could come home – like Mom would ever tell her no." Sam slammed his fist down on the bed, "I should have known what he was doing to her, Al. I should have protected her. I'm her brother. I should have known…" he trailed off to silence.

"If you didn't have contact with her, Sam, if she hid it from you, how could you have known? You might be a genius, Kid, but you're not a psychic. It wasn't your fault and you've got to stop beating yourself up about it. It was a long time ago." Al leaned over to lift up Sam's face. "Look at me. It wasn't your fault," he said slowly.

Sam shrugged neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Al.

The two of them slipped into silence again. It was only broken by the arrival of Sam's lunch.

"Guess we'll have to put off any therapy until after you've eaten," Al said breaking the silence. "You want to stay in bed and eat, or what?"

Sam leaned over trying to grab the crutches. "I'll get up. I'm tired of eating my meals in bed. It makes me feel helpless."

Al waited until Sam sat down in the chair before pulling the table with his lunch over to him. "Just eat what you can," he advised when he saw Sam's expression after he pulled the cover off of it. "I'm gonna run out and get something for myself. I'd offer to pick something up for you instead of this but it looks like their still keeping an eye on what you eat."

"They're still sticking to that bland diet. That could be why I don't have much of an appetite. Who'd really look forward to eating this?" Sam poked his fork into the chicken on the plate and looked up to Al. "I think I've eaten so much chicken since I've been here that I'm going to start clucking soon. When I get out of here the first thing I'm going to do is have a steak. A nice, thick, juicy steak."

Al laughed softly. "I'm gonna hold you to that and take you out for the best steak you've ever had in your life as soon as they spring you."

"You're on," Sam replied.

"In the meantime," Al said as he started to walk out of the room, "eat what's on you're plate."

"Yes, Dad," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of chicken.


	75. Chapter 75

When Al got back to Sam's room he was pleased to see that, with the exception of a few bites of the mashed potatoes, Sam had pretty much cleaned his plate. What didn't make him very happy was the fact that Sam seemed to be sitting very still and had a slightly green tinge to him. "Hey," he asked with concern, "You, ok, Sam? You're not looking to good there."

Sam slowly and carefully nodded his head. "I'm ok," he said softly. "I just think I ate too much. I'll be ok in a few minutes."

Al picked up the tray off the table and put it down on the counter out of Sam's sight to be picked up.

"You want to lie down?" he asked Sam walking back over to him.

"No. I think I just need to sit for a while." Sam forced out a smile to reassure Al that he was ok. "Honest, I'll be fine."

Al sat down in the chair across from Sam still dubious. He put the bag with his lunch on the table but didn't bother to open it. He had a feeling the last thing Sam would need right now was to see even more food in front of him.

"You forced yourself to eat all that, didn't you?" Al asked. "Why would you do a foolish thing like that?" he continued without giving Sam a chance to answer his first question.

"Because," Sam replied, "I know how hospitals work, Al. If I'm not eating a full meal on my own they're not going to release me and I'm not staying here longer than I have to."

"And if you start puking again I don't think they'll let you out either," Al pointed out.

"I'm not going to puke, as you so nicely put it, Al. I just need a few minutes and then I'll be fine."

"Good," Al said reaching for his lunch and opening the bag. "You won't mind if I eat then, will you?"

"No," Sam said overly brightly, "not at all."

Al proceeded to pull the sandwich he'd gotten across the street out of the bag while keeping a close watch on Sam. He'd no sooner unwrapped the sandwich and put it to his mouth for a bite when Sam threw his hand up over his mouth and doubled over with an arm wrapped around his stomach. "Oh God, please take that somewhere else," Sam mumbled from behind his hand.

Al quickly rewrapped the sandwich and stuffed it back into the bag and tossed it on the table. Getting up from the chair he stood beside Sam rubbing up and down his bent back. "Hey, hey, take it easy and just breathe," he coached. "It's ok, you're ok," he continued. He spent the next couple of minutes rubbing Sam's back soothingly and talking softly to him until he felt the tension drain from Sam's body and his hand droppe from in front of his mouth. He helped him to straighten back up in the chair. "You ok now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam said as he nodded. He leaned his head back weakly against the chair. "Sorry about that."

"It's ok," Al reassured him. "I've got the feeling you're not going to force yourself to eat again, though, right."

Sam silently agreed with him.

"How 'bout I help you back into bed and you rest for a little while and I'll go outside and eat. By the time I get back you'll probably be feeling better and we can work on some of those exercises. That sound like a good idea?" Al didn't give Sam a chance to agree with the idea since he was already grabbing the crutches and started to help him up. 

Sam docilely let Al lead him back to the bed and help him lie down before tucking the blanket around him. "I'll just rest of a little while," he told Al, "then I'll be ok."

"Sure you will," Al agreed. "You just tried to do a little more than your body was ready for. You just have to take these things in steps."

Al quickly brushed his hand over Sam's forehead checking for fever, something he'd unconsciously gotten into the habit of doing and something Sam didn't seem to be objecting to – yet. Assured that there was no fever, Al grabbed his lunch off the table and left the room.

When he got back ½ hour later he found that Sam had slipped off to sleep. Rummaging through the stuff on the windowsill he located the crossword puzzle book he'd bought for Sam as well as a pencil. Randomly opening a page he started to fill the puzzle in.

About 15 minutes later his head jerked up when he heard a slight murmur from the bed and Sam shifting position. Putting the crossword book aside he got up to stand beside the bed ready to calm Sam down from a nightmare if he had to. Since his fever had broken, Sam hadn't had any that Al knew of but that didn't mean they wouldn't start again. Once more he unconsciously brushed his hand over Sam's forehead. As he did so Sam's eyes opened as he awakened.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Nothin'," Al answered. "What do mean?"

"You're just standing there watching me," Sam replied as he used the bed controls to sit up.

"I…uh…I thought you might be having a bad dream or something," Al explained. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.

"No, no bad dreams," Sam said, "and I don't have a fever either so you can stop checking."

"What to you mean?" Al asked defensively.

"You keep putting your hand on my head to see if I have a fever. It's starting to get a little weird. Even when I was kid and I was sick I don't think my mom checked as often."

"I do?" Al asked honestly surprised. "I guess I haven't noticed. I just got so used to doing it when you were really sick."

"You have," Sam answered. "I'm not 'really sick' anymore so you don't have to keep doing it. Like I said, it's getting a little weird."

"I'll try to remember," Al said. "Now where are you going?" he asked when Sam threw the blanket down.

"To the restroom – and I really don't need your help – and then I have therapy to work on."

Al handed Sam his crutches, ignoring the look he got in return. Sam was starting to want to assert is his independence which was going to be diametrically opposed to Al's need to keep a close watch on him.

"Don't close the door," Al reminded him as he watched him walk across the room.

"Like I could forget," Sam said. "I should have just become and exhibitionist, I'm getting enough practice at it here."

Al laughed at Sam's complaint. "Like you'd ever be able to go around in public without any clothes."

"You'd be surprised," Sam said softy, but not so softly that Al couldn't hear him, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Al turned his back on the door that Sam had left open to give him privacy although he was intrigued by what Sam meant about him being surprised.

"Ok, spill it," he said once Sam had returned from the restroom and was seated on the side of the bed.

"Spill what?" Sam asked.

"Just what you meant by that little comment." When Sam still seemed baffled by what Al meant he further clarified, "that I'd be surprised about you being in public without any clothes."

"Oh, that." Sam said.

"Yeah, that and we're not doing anything until I know the story."

"Ah geez, I shouldn't have said anything," Sam hedged.

"Well you did so start spilling it."

"Ok, ok," Sam said gesturing with his hands that he surrendered. "There really isn't much of a story. I just sorta got expelled from MIT my freshman year for streaking."

"You got expelled for what?" Al asked his eyes blinking rapidly.

"Streaking, I got expelled for streaking," Sam repeated as he turned a deep shade of red.

"Care to enlighten me as to what events would lead up to choirboy Sam Beckett getting caught streaking," Al asked just barely containing his laughter.

"Uh, it's kind of a long story and I really wasn't streaking exactly. That's just what I got expelled for."

"Uh uh, no way, Pal. You're not getting out of it that easy. I want the whole story and I want it now." Al grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and brought it back over so that he could sit and face Sam. "Now spill it, I want the whole sordid tale."

Sam brushed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, it's my fault for bringing it up and I know you're not going to let up until I tell you. Can you at least help he get that weight around my ankle so I can get something accomplished while I'm sitting here?"

"You start and I'll get the weight," Al said.

"Fine. You know I started MIT when I was 16, right. Well, let's say I didn't exactly fit in with everyone around me. I was the youngest one there and the biggest city I'd been in up 'til then had been Terre Haute – well, there was Chicago when I was 2 but I don't really remember that. Anyway, I was a bit out of my element and didn't fit in very well. I was taking some martial arts classes on campus and one afternoon when I was showering after the class someone or more than just one someone thought it might be a good idea to haze the new kid by stealing all my clothes. I got out of the shower and there was nothing – not even a towel. I didn't know what to do and thought I could make it back from the athletic building to my dorm with just a couple of pieces of newspaper to uh…well… you know."

"Uh huh," Al agreed.

"It didn't even occur to me that since who ever it was took all my clothes I wouldn't even have keys to get in my room. Anyway I got to Mass Ave. when the sky opened up and it started to pour and it didn't take long for the newspapers to be pretty much useless. That's about the time the Dean of Students happened by. He was not a happy man since he thought that the wunderkind was out there streaking like some of the other crazies. Long story short, I ended up getting expelled."

"Wait a minute, I know you were the youngest person to graduate from MIT," Al said. "If you got expelled your freshman year how'd you manage that?"

"I plead my case to the Dean and the story got around campus. I guess whoever had taken off with my clothes must have felt sorry for me or something because they were anonymously returned with a note saying I was basically innocent and I ended up getting reinstated about a week after it all happened. At the time, that had to be the worst week of my life. Mom still doesn't know about it today and I'd really like to keep it that way."

"Do I even want to know how you kept something like that a secret from your parents for a week?" Al asked.

"I didn't. Dad knew about it right after I talked to the Dean. The Dean said he'd give me a week to prove my case and if I couldn't the expulsion would become official. I called Dad right after that and told him what happened. I didn't know what to do and if I was going to be coming home I figured Dad and Mom had to be told. Dad figured it wasn't worth it to worry Mom about it unless it was necessary and by then things had been worked out. We both agreed it was something Mom was probably better off knowing."

"I can't even imagine what the look on her face would be if she knew you'd been caught on the streets of Cambridge butt-naked." Al started to chortle with laughter. "I'd give anything to have seen the look on your face or to see you with your newspapers. And you thought you'd make it up Mass Ave. without anyone noticing."

Sam started to join in with Al's laughter. "Yeah, it wasn't one of my finer moments. At least there were no cameras around."

Sam's mention of cameras just made Al laugh harder. "Now that would have made it all just perfect."

Finally the laughter of both men wound down. "Whatever you do, Al, don't ever tell Mom about this, please. And Katie. She can't ever know or she'll never let me forget about it."

Al started to chuckle again with a gleam in his eye.

"Promise me, Al," Sam begged.

"Ok, ok," Al finally agreed. "You're secret is safe with me and no one in your family will ever know about it from me." Mentally Al added in that that although he'd never tell anyone in Sam's family, that didn't mean he wouldn't share this little story with anyone at the project. It was just too good to pass up.

Once the two men were in control of their mirth they continued on with Sam's recommended therapy exercises before pulling out the cards again. Every now and then Al would stop and chuckle as he got an image in his mind of 16 year old Sam naked with nothing but newspapers in the middle of Mass Ave. as the rain poured down around him and each time he did Sam would remind him of his promise.

After they'd eaten dinner Sam pressed Al into going through another round of the exercises with him so that by the time the end of visiting hours came he was thoroughly tired and already starting to fall asleep. They parted for the night with Sam confident that he'd be released the next day and Al promising to wait at the hotel until he got a call from Sam telling him just that. 


	76. Chapter 76

The next morning Sam was awake long before anyone else in the hospital was. He knew it was the anticipation of leaving, in his mind there was no question about the fact that he'd be released today, that had him awake so earlier. There was just no way he was going to be able to go back to sleep, it didn't matter how long he had to wait until Dr. Gleason was in. Besides, he reasoned with himself, it wasn't that odd for him to be awake at 5:15. He did grow up on a farm and had gotten used to getting up very early at a young age.

What he would have loved to do was to get out of bed and walk around for a little while to burn off some of his nervous energy but that was out of the question. After his attempt to walk solo the first day he had the crutches, Emily made sure that each night they were put far enough out of his reach to prevent another occurrence of that. If he wanted out of bed he was going to have call someone for help, there was no way around that.

Instead he settled for pulling on the light and grabbing one of the books Al had brought him to read. He wasn't able to concentrate, though, and found himself having to read the same paragraph over and over for it to make any sense to him. He finally closed the book in frustration and put it aside. He was just too worked up to be able to just sit and read. His body finally caught up to the fact that he was awake and he had no choice but to ring for someone to help him out of bed.

"You're up early," Emily said coming into the room.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed. "I couldn't sleep. I guess I'm getting a little impatient."

"Please tell me you're not getting impatient for breakfast," Emily joked. "If you are I'm going to be really worried about you."

"No, not breakfast," Sam laughed. "I'm hoping Dr. Gleason releases me today."

"Ah, now I see," Emily said. "So, what can I do for you right now? I hope you're not checking to see if Dr. Gleason is making rounds yet. It's still just a bit too early for him."

"Oh, I know," Sam agreed. "I just needed to get up and use the restroom."

"Well, then, let's get you up and moving."

Emily walked Sam over to the restroom waiting outside until he was done and then walked him back to bed.

"Do you think I could just take a walk around the floor," Sam asked her sitting on the side of the bed.

"Sorry, Sweetie, we're going to be changing shifts soon and it's a lot easier to run vitals checks and get everything all switched over if we know where you are."

"Oh, ok," Sam said somewhat dejected.

Emily helped him the rest of the way into bed and pulled the blanket up over him. "If you'd like I can sit with you for a little while and keep you company."

"Oh, no, that's all right. I know you have other patients and work to do. I don't want to keep you from anything. I'll be ok."

"If you're sure. Well, if you need anything else or if you change your mind you just ring and I'll be right in."

"I will, Ma'am." As Sam watched Emily start to leave the room, a thought crossed his mind. "Emily," he called to her.

"Change your mind already?" she asked with a smile.

"No, Ma'am. I was just wondering if you knew how another patient was doing. Her last name is Jacobs but I'm not sure what her first name is. I met her husband and daughter yesterday," Sam explained.

Emily sighed and her face fell, "She's not doing well, I'm afraid. They transferred her back to ICU a few hours ago."

"That's too bad," Sam said. "I was really hoping she'd be ok. Her daughter's so young."

"We've all been pulling for Mrs. Jacobs. I guess it's in the Lord's hands now."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Sam agreed quietly.

"You're sure you don't want some company for a little while?" Emily asked again.

"No, really, I'll be fine," Sam said trying for a small smile.

"Ok, then. I'll try to get back in here before I leave but if I don't," Emily bent over and kissed Sam on the forehead, "that's for being such a good patient and a good person."

"Thank you for all that you've done for me," Sam said with feeling. "I won't forget."

"I just don't ever want to see you here in a bed again, you got that," Emily said mock sternly.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam replied with a small laugh.

Sam watched Emily leave the room and realized that he'd been very fortunate the past two weeks. True he'd been in a horrendous accident but he'd been fortunate to have received such excellent care. He grabbed the book again and flipped it open and forced himself to concentrate on the pages in front of him and just read. 


	77. Chapter 77

It was nearly noon before the phone finally rang and Al ran to pick it up. "Sam, that you?" he asked without even bothering with a hello.

"It's me, Al," Sam said with barely contained excitement. "I just got the go ahead from Dr. Gleason and I'm getting released this afternoon – finally."

"That's the best news I've heard in a long time, Sam," Al said quickly catching Sam's excitement. "Look do you need me to bring anything with me when I come to pick you up?"

"You left my clothes and stuff here on Friday, right?"

"Yeah, I did," Al agreed.

"Then could you just bring my keys and wallet?" Sam asked.

"Sure thing. I'll leave here as soon as I hang up and should be there pretty quick."

"Ok, Al. I'll see you in a little bit then."

Al hung up the phone and started running around the room grabbing everything he'd need. He quickly caught the same excitement that Sam seemed to be caught up in and realized he hadn't stopped smiling since he'd hung up the phone. The last thing he did before leaving the room was grab Sam's keys and wallet and stuff them into his coat pocket.

When he got to Sam's room he found him sitting on the side of the bed with his clothes piled up beside him looking lost.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" Al asked letting the door close behind him.

"I was trying to get dressed but I just realized I can't bend over enough yet to get on anything. Diane was going to help me but she had to take care of another patient."

"Well, I'm here now so why don't I just help you." Al reasonably pointed while pulling off his own coat.

Al knelt down on the floor in front of Sam and grabbed the boxer shorts off the top of the pile and guided both of Sam's legs into them and pulled them up to just over his knees. Then he steadied him enough so that he could stand up and pull them on the rest of the way himself. Once that was done he reached behind Sam to untie the hospital gown and pulled it out of the way before getting on the floor again to put on Sam's socks. Next he grabbed his jeans and followed the same process that they had with the boxers – pulling them up far enough so that Sam could finish it once he was standing.

Sam had never been a heavyweight but once his jeans were buttoned and zipped Al saw how they were riding low on his hips due to the weight he'd lost over the last couple of weeks and realized it was a good thing he'd thought to pack a belt for him. While Sam pulled on a sweater Al knelt back down to put on his shoes and tie them.

"We're going to have to go shopping so I can get some sneakers," Sam said when his head popped through the neck hole of the sweater. "That is unless you had Tina send some with everything else."

"No, I didn't even think of that," Al said climbing to his feet. "I guess these wouldn't be practical for therapy," he said indicating the leather shoes that Sam had on.

"No, they won't. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon for therapy so we'll have to go either tonight or tomorrow morning."

"You tell me what size you need and I'll go pick them up after I get you settled in at the hotel."

"I'm not just going to tell you what size, Al. I need to go too and try them on and make sure they're comfortable. I don't think you can do that for me."

"No way, Sam." Al argued. "You're just getting out of the hospital today. There's no way you're going to be up to traipsing around mall or something."

"Why don't you let me make that decision for myself," Sam said, his voice getting hard. "I am an adult, you know."

"I don't feel like arguing about this, Sam. You're not going anywhere and that's that." Al's voice had gotten louder than he'd intended it to and it only served to inflame Sam who pulled himself up off the bed so that he was face to face with Al."

"Who said we were going to argue about it. I'm going and that's final. You can either drive me or I'll just take a cab but whichever way I'm going."

Al blinked at the vehemence in Sam's voice and took a step backwards. It had gotten pretty easy to tell Sam what to do when he'd been looking down at him either sitting in the chair or lying in bed. Face to face Al was finding it a little harder to do.

"Ok, Sam," Al said recognizing that it would be a good idea to back off a little. "How about a deal? We'll see how you're feeling this evening and make a decision from there."

Sam eyed Al warily before lowering himself to sit once more on the edge of the bed. "Ok, but you don't get to make a unilateral decision."

"Ok, fine," Al agreed. "Now here, put this one, would ya," he said handing Sam the belt. "You've lost so much weight your pants are going to be around your ankles soon if you don't."

Sam hesitated for just a second looking hard at Al before he took the proffered belt and started to put it through the belt loops on his jeans. "Maybe we can get something decent to eat for dinner tonight and I can start putting the weight back on."

Al was just about to say that they'd just order room service for dinner that night but thought the better of it. The rate things were going Sam was probably going to want to go out somewhere for dinner and right now he was just a little too tired to start another argument. "We'll have to see what we both want to do later on," he settled for saying.

It was another couple of hours before all of the paperwork for Sam's release was finally filled out and signed and his prescriptions had been filled. In that time he'd taken impatience to a whole new level and had started pacing the length of the room. Diane had come in earlier to say her goodbyes and wish Sam good luck and had somehow managed to get him to stay in one place long enough for a quick hug. Al was just getting ready to tell Sam to just sit down and wait when the door to the room opened and Lydia came in pushing a wheelchair in front of her.

"Someone in here call for a taxi," she asked.

"Finally," Sam said as he halted mid-pace.

Lydia laughed at his impatience. "I think someone's a little on the eager side to get of here. I've got the rest of your discharge papers right here," she said handing several papers over to Al. "The pharmacy just brought up all of your prescriptions, too." She also handed the small white bag with the prescriptions over to Al and he tucked them into the packed duffel. "So now I guess it's time for you to leave us."

"No offence," Sam said, "but I'm really happy to finally be getting out of here."

"Please, don't hold back," Lydia said with a laugh, "tell us all how you really feel."

Sam and Al both joined in on the laughter.

Sam was just getting ready to lower himself into the wheelchair when Al stopped him.

"I think you're forgetting something, Sam."

"Huh? What am I forgetting?" Sam asked quizzically.

"The fact that it's raining outside and it's only in the upper 40's out there. I think you might want a coat."

"Oh, yeah, right. I did sort of forget."

While Lydia helped Sam balance without the crutches, Al helped him into the wool peacoat. When he tried to button it up Sam brushed his hands away. "I think I can manage the buttons on my own."

"Just make sure you do them all up," Al admonished. "You haven't been outside in two weeks and I don't want you to freeze your butt off."

"Somehow I don't think I'm in any danger of that happening," Sam said dryly when he saw the scarf and gloves that Al was holding. "I think I can do without the Eskimo look."

"Suit yourself," Al said and stuffed the scarf and gloves into the duffle bag. Once Sam was seated in the wheelchair Al put the small bag on his lap that held all of the get well cards he'd received before putting Bear on the top of the pile. He put on his own coat and grabbed the duffel bag that had the books and files in it as well as Sam's pj's and robe and slung that over his shoulder before grabbing the plastic hospital bag full of the paraphernalia that Sam would need in order to continue working on both his respiratory as well as his physical therapy at the hotel and grabbed the crutches from where they were leaning against the wall. "I guess we're set, then," he said.

Lydia led the way out of the room pushing Sam in the chair with Al following close behind. Sam didn't look back into the room he'd spent two weeks in once he crossed the threshold but Al couldn't help pausing long enough to look back before pulling the door shut and walking away. They stopped long enough at the nurses' desk for Sam to say his goodbyes to Margie and thank her for her part in his care and then they were on to the elevator bank.

It was once they were in the elevator with the doors closed that Sam remarked, "All this time here and I don't think I ever even knew what floor I was on."

"I don't think I'll ever forget," Al remarked.

Once they got down to the lobby floor Lydia stopped with Sam just inside the doors. Since Al had to go get the car and bring it around to the exit and it was rainy and damp out, she didn't want to expose Sam to the elements any longer than was necessary. As soon as she saw Al pull up in front of the door and get out of the car coming around to open the passenger door she pushed Sam out.

"I guess this is it," she said just before leaning over to hug him. "Don't you be a stranger, you hear. You come back and visit – just not as a patient next time."

"I'll make sure I come by before we leave for New Mexico," Sam said returning the hug. "Thank you for all you've done."

Al grabbed the bag and Bear off of Sam's lap and put them in the back seat while Lydia helped Sam to get up from the wheelchair and balance on the crutches. It was just a couple of steps over to the open car door but it ended up not being the easiest thing for Sam to bend to get into the car but between the three of them they accomplished it. Al automatically reached in buckling the safety belt around Sam, ignoring the dirty look, before he closed the door.

Impulsively he reached over to hug Lydia and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for all you've done for Sam and I'll make sure he comes back to visit you." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he ran back around the car and got in the driver's door and pulled it shut.

"You ready," he asked Sam.

"I've been ready for a while now," Sam responded.

"Then let's go." Al put the car into drive and pulled away from the hospital door. He glanced over at Sam out of the corner of his eye and noticed that now that they were in the car and underway his earlier excitement and enthusiasm for getting out of the hospital had been muted. "He's probably realizing just like I am that from now on we're on our own," Al thought as he drove very carefully up the street. From this point on, Al realized, they'd started a whole new chapter in Sam's recovery. 


	78. Chapter 78

Despite Al's extra care driving back to the hotel they still made it back in what was record time for Al. Miraculously traffic seemed to be light. He pulled up in front of the hotel and turned off the car. "I'm just gonna grab what we need out of the backseat right now and I'll get the rest later," he said as he opened the driver's side door.

Going around the back of the car Al opened the rear passenger door and reached in and pulled out Sam's crutches and leaned them against the door when it was shut. He pulled open Sam's door and helped guide his legs out of the car before handing him the crutches. Thankfully it was easier for Sam to get out of the car than it was for him to get in.

"I just need to grab a few things from the back seat," he told the valet when he came over for the car. He waited until Sam got a few steps from the car so that he could swing the door shut before opening the back door and pulling out the duffel bag and plastic hospital bag. The bag of get well cards could stay in the back seat until later. Impulsively he reached back in and grabbed Bear and stuffed him in the top of the plastic bag. "Ready?" he asked once he'd swung the door shut.

"As I'll ever be," Sam said as he started to walk to the hotel door. Before either of them could even contemplate how Sam would be able to get through the revolving door of the hotel the doorman quickly came over and opened the door flanking the revolving door on the right side. "Thanks," Sam said and went through it.

"Be careful on the floor," Al cautioned as they entered the lobby. "What's that look for," he said looking at Sam. "It's marble and it can be slippery."

"I know that, Al," Sam said. "Just don't keep telling me."

They were almost to the elevator bank when Sam stopped short.

"What's the matter? Your leg hurting or something?" Al asked immediately on guard for the worst.

Sam shook his head but stared transfixed at an object just in front of him. Al followed Sam's gaze to see that he was staring at the table where the hotel had set up complimentary coffee and tea.

"Is that coffee?" Sam asked in a tone close to wonder.

"Yeah, it's coffee. There's tea there too. Why?"

"I haven't had any coffee since before the accident," Sam said before taking off in the direction of the coffee.

"Yeah, so I thought you didn't really drink a lot of it," Al pointed out following behind him.

"I don't," Sam agreed, "but every once and a while I like to have a cup and right now is one of those times." Sam had reached the table and was trying to reach to grab a cup as well as the pot of coffee while still keeping the crutches under his arms. Al quickly put the bags down on the floor and grabbed for the pot of coffee himself.

"Here, let me get that before you either burn yourself or fall over." Al poured out a cup and handed it over to Sam to doctor as he saw fit. He didn't bother and just drank the strong brew down black.

Al patiently waited until Sam had finished drinking the cup. Obviously he wasn't moving until he had. "You all set now or do you need another cup," Al asked when Sam had finished.

"I'm all set," Sam said as he started moving to the elevator.

Al picked the bags back up off the floor and followed.

"What floor?" Sam asked once they were both in the elevator and the doors had closed.

"We're still on six," Al said reaching to push the button. "I had the room switched so we'd have a little more room for you to get around in."

When they reached the room Al had to put the bags down again as he fumbled in his pocket for the keycard to the room. "We'll have to stop down at the front desk and get you one of these. It didn't cross my mind to get two when I switched rooms," Al said as he put the card into the slot. "Here you go, home sweet home for the next little while," he said as he opened the door with a sweeping gesture for Sam to enter.

As Sam walked by him Al caught sight of the suddenly stormy look on his face. "What's the matter," he asked quizzically after the door had closed behind them.

Sam rounded on Al seething, "I'm not handicapped. This is just temporary."

"I know that," Al said puzzled. "What's got you so upset?"

"What's got me so upset?" Sam echoed back before brushing past Al and fumbling to get the door opened. "You want to know what's got me so upset. This is what's got me so upset." Sam said as his hand slapped against the small sign just under the room number on the door that indicated the room's designation as handicapped equipped. "When are you going to just start treating me like normal?" Sam asked in a very loud voice.

"First," Al said striving to maintain calm, "let's close the door if you're going to start shouting. No need for everyone on the floor to hear you." He gently pulled Sam back from the door and let it close behind him.

"I didn't ask for this room. When I asked the manager to switch the room to something bigger that you'd be able to maneuver around in without tripping over the furniture he suggested this room might be easiest for you. I took it not because I think you're different or that there's something wrong with you but because I was hoping you could be more independent in it. Go in the bathroom," Al demanded nudging Sam in that direction.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"I said go into the bathroom and you'll see why I thought this room was a great idea when I saw it." Sam continued to hesitate and Al was finding it harder to maintain his own calm. "Just go in there, will you."

Sam finally consented and made his way into the bathroom.

"You see that shower?" Al asked after he'd snapped on the light. "I thought you'd appreciate it because you can get in and out on your own without my help and there's safety bars in it so you can take a shower by yourself. I thought you might like to start getting some of your independence back and not have to rely on me for everything. But if you're too proud to be in a room that's going to help you do that, I'll certainly go down to the front desk and see if they can switch us back to a regular room and then I can haul your naked butt in and out of the tub so you can take a shower everyday. If that's what you want, just say the word."

"No," Sam said softly looking down at the floor. "I'm…I'm sorry. You just did this to help me and here I am jumping all over you instead of thanking you. I guess I'm just so anxious for everything to go back to normal that I'm forgetting that might still take a little time. I really am sorry for getting upset with you."

Al blew out a breath. "It's ok, Sam" he said waving off the apology. "I should have told you upfront so you wouldn't be surprised. I guess if I were in your place I might have gotten a little bent out of shape, too. Don't worry about it."

"I do worry about it," Sam said looking up to face Al. "It seems every time I get frustrated lately I take it out on you. That's not fair. I know you've given up a lot to stay here with me. It can't have been fun for you to sit in that hospital room day after day."

"It's nothing you wouldn't have done for me if the situation were reversed, Sam. Now come on, let's not just stand around in the bathroom all day getting mushy. I don't know about you but I'm getting a little toasty with my coat on yet." Let's just get comfortable here and start getting you unpacked.

"I really am grateful, Al," Sam said sincerely.

"I know you are, Kid. Now, c'mon. Let's get out of here."

Al led the way out of bathroom and got Sam settled in one of the rooms chairs before he started to pull out the contents of the bags and putting them away around the room where they'd be easily accessible but out of the way. Every now and then he'd chance a quick glance in Sam's direction. At first he thought that Sam was still inwardly berating himself for his earlier outburst but soon realized that he was starting to doze off in the chair. He got him to stand up and walk the few steps to the bed and stretch out so he'd be more comfortable there. As he watched Sam curl up into the blanket he'd thrown over him he realized they still had a long way to go. 


	79. Chapter 79

By the time Sam woke up from his nap it was already dinnertime. He agreed with Al that it would be easier to just order something from room service and have it brought up. Once they were done with dinner, though, Sam insisted that Al drive him to a mall to pick up a pair of sneakers for his therapy session the next afternoon. Even though it went against his better judgment, Al finally conceded to Sam's wishes rather than argue with him all night long.

They'd made the drive to Bethesda to go to the Montgomery Mall in a strained silence. Even though he hadn't argued the point of going with Sam he'd still managed to make his opinion on the matter known as they were waiting for the valet to bring the car around. Sam hadn't taken very kindly to Al's opinion.

"We've got to stop doing this," Sam said quietly as Al pulled into the parking lot.

"Doing what," Al asked feigning ignorance.

"You know what," Sam said turning in the seat to face Al. "We can't keep arguing and fighting over every little thing or we're going to drive each other nuts."

Al sighed and turned off the ignition after pulling into a parking space close to the door. Since it was a Monday night the mall wasn't as crowded as it might otherwise have been.

"I hope you don't think I'm enjoying fighting and arguing with you, Sam. I just wish you'd realize that your not 100 well yet, that you're still recovering. You can't do everything you normally can and if you try you run the risk of getting sick again or hurting yourself again."

"I know that, Al. Trust me, I know that. Every time it feels like the muscles in my leg have been tied in knots or every time I try to take a deep breath and get a pain in my chest I know that I'm not 100 yet. If I'm ever going to get back to being normal, though, I've got to start doing normal things. I can't just sit back and let you take care of me forever."

"I don't want to take care of you forever, Sam. I just want you to let me help you for the time being until you are at 100. You haven't even been out of the hospital a day yet and here you going off to a shopping mall. I just don't think that's one of your smarter ideas."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it isn't but don't you have to let me see if it is or isn't by myself?"

"I guess. It doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it."

"No one said you had to," Sam said. "Now can we just do this and get it done and over with. You know how much I hate these places." Sam popped open his seat belt and opened the door and waited patiently until Al met him there with the crutches.

By the time they'd made it from the parking spot into the mall and then to the athletic shoe store Sam was already fighting with fatigue but he pushed himself on. The made quick work of the purchase and were soon headed back to the car.

As Al was pulling out of the parking lot he heard a soft thunk next to him and looked over to see that Sam had fallen asleep. The thunk he'd heard had been his head falling up against the window.

Sam slept the entire way back to the hotel and Al had to shake him awake in order to get him back up to the room. Sam was still more asleep than awake and ended up stumbling a few times before they were finally back in the room. Al had him sit on the foot of the bed while he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt for Sam to change into. Once he'd helped him with that task he sent him off into the bathroom to do whatever he needed to do before going to bed.

When Sam reappeared in the bathroom doorway some time later he looked as if was ready to fall asleep standing up. One of the things Dr. Gleason had warned them about was that Sam would become easily fatigued for some time yet.

Once Sam was safely in bed and already on his way to a deep sleep Al grabbed his keycard off the desk where he'd left it and shrugged into his coat. He planned to go downstairs and indulge in a cigar – something he'd not had much opportunity to do that day. On the way back he'd stop by the front desk and get another keycard for Sam. He didn't really see why Sam would be going out of the room by himself but he thought it was only fair that he have a copy of it for his own use instead of constantly having to rely on Al.

Al checked one more time to make sure Sam was sleeping before leaving the room. 


	80. Chapter 80

"I'll see you back at the hotel then," Sam replied.

Al turned to head toward Constitution Avenue to look for a cab while Sam started to cross 17th Street heading toward the Washington Monument. Al turned to look back to Sam and saw that the younger man was crossing the street with his head tucked down to keep the rain off of his face and his hands in his pockets. In that position he was unable to see the car that came speeding around the corner headed right at him.

"Sam!" Al yelled out in warning.

Sam had partially turned toward Al when he heard his name yelled. Unfortunately, Al's warning shout didn't come with enough time for Sam to get out of the way of oncoming car.

Al watched sickened as the car struck his friend; his body rolling up the hood of the car and striking the windshield with enough force to shatter it before rolling off to land in the street. The car kept going without any hesitation.

Al stood frozen to the spot for a second before running over to where his friend lay in the street praying the entire way that when he got there he'd find him still alive. He came to a stop and knelt down next to the broken and twisted body of his best friend. Reaching out a hand he rolled him over and sucked in a breath when he saw the lifeless eyes staring back at him. Blood poured out from so many different wounds he didn't know where to stanch the bleeding. First he had to know, though, know if Sam was dead or alive. He pressed trembling fingers to the cooling flesh of Sam's neck moving them around seeking out the thrum of life but it was no longer there. Throwing back his head he screamed his denial to the heavens.

Suddenly, Sam jack-knifed into a sitting position. The lifeless eyes sought out Al's locking on them and drawing him in. A bloodied hand lifted pointing at Al accusingly. "It's your fault. You were supposed to protect me but now I'm dead. It's all your fault."

Al could only stare in horror as the broken and dead body of his friend came to life accusing him of his death. "It's all your fault," Sam said again. "I'm dead because of you."

Al jerked up into a sitting position. The scream dying on his lips before it could be born. His body was bathed in a cold sweat and he could feel himself shaking in the aftermath of the dream. That's all it was, he told himself, just a dream. Sam wasn't dead. He was sleeping peacefully in the next bed.

Al had to assure himself, though. Pushing himself from the bed he crossed the small space that separated his bed from Sam's and stood next to it. The drapes in the room hadn't been pulled fully shut before they went to bed and the moon had risen to shine through the small part of the window still uncovered. It's cool, silvery light illuminated the room just enough for him to see by and fell on Sam's sleeping form.

In the pale moonlight the lines of pain were smoothed from Sam's face and he looked years younger than he was. The effect of the moonlight gave a porcelain, almost fragile look to his still pale features.

He was sleeping on his back with one arm thrown carelessly above his head and the other resting limply across his stomach. His mouth was opened slightly and the only sound in the room was the soft snores as Sam slept on oblivious to Al's scrutiny.

"He's alive and he's right here," Al whispered to himself as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Sam's chest as he breathed.

Instead of going back to bed like he knew he should, Al knelt down by the side of the bed and watched Sam sleep – watched him breathe. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and seeking the pulse that he knew thrummed rhythmically in his neck knowing that doing so would most likely wake Sam. He couldn't imagine what Sam would think if he woke up and saw Al kneeling next to the bed like this but it didn't dissuade him from his silent vigil.

Al didn't know how long he knelt beside the bed just watching as Sam slowly breathed in and out. The spell was broken when Sam rolled over onto his side facing Al. The arm that had been thrown above his head came down on the mattress, his fingertips brushing Al's arm where he leaned on the mattress. For that brief moment Al was rewarded by the feel of the living warmth of Sam.

With aching knees Al finally rose from his place on the floor. We walked backwards until his legs bumped the mattress of his bed and he sat down. The entire time he didn't take his eyes off the rise and fall of Sam's chest. Finally, he forced himself to lay back down and pull the covers over his body.

He lay for what felt like hours still just watching Sam sleep until finally the soft snores for the younger man lulled him back to sleep. 


	81. Chapter 81

It was sometime later when Al was again pulled from his sleep by a dream but this time it wasn't his. Through the slit in the curtains he could see that the sun was just starting to paint the sky in shades of orange, pink and purple. In the next bed Sam tossed fitfully back and forth while calling out for his brother caught in the throes of his recurrent dream.

Al slipped from under the cover on his bed and padded over to Sam's sitting down gently on edge and placing one hand on Sam's chest. "Sam, it's ok, it's just a dream. It's ok now, settle down."

With a scream that was bit off in the middle Sam abruptly came awake. He was breathing heavily and his body was bathed in sweat.

"It's ok, Sam" Al hastened to reassure him. "You were just having a dream."

"Tom," Sam said and swallowed. "I was dreaming about Tom again."

"I kind of figured since you were calling out for him. You want to talk about it?"

Sam shook his head no. "It's the same one. I'd rather not talk about it. I just want to forget it right now." He rubbed his hands over his face before resting his elbows on his knees and keeping his face buried in his hands.

Al continued to sit beside Sam offering silent comfort as Sam came to terms with the dream.

"What time is it?" Sam asked when he finally brought his face from his hands.

"Way too early for either of us to be awake," Al answered adding in "It's only 5:30. Why don't you lie back down and see if you can get another couple of hours before you get up." Al worked to stifle a yawn as he got up from the side of Sam's bed. "That's what I'm going to do."

While Sam laid back down and got comfortable in the bed Al went over to the windows and pulled the completely closed blocking out the rising sun and plunging the room into darkness. He trailed a hand along the foot of Sam's bed as he walked by it so that he wouldn't trip over it. "I should not be seeing the sun rise," he said as he climbed back into bed.

"I grew up on a farm," Sam said from the other bed. "Being up with the sun was a normal part of the day."

"Yeah, well, we're not on a farm right now so why don't you just go back to sleep," Al said around a yawn.

Within minutes Sam's breathing became deep and slow as he easily slipped back to sleep. Despite the fact that he was tired Al continued to lie in the bed looking up to the ceiling which he could barely make out in the darkness of the room. There were so many thoughts going through is mind he just couldn't turn them all off long enough to go back to sleep. Forefront in mind was the thought that the responsibility of Sam's wellbeing now fell squarely on his shoulders. There were no more doctors and nurses to take care of him and make sure nothing was going wrong. That would be up to Al now.

He could only hope he'd do a better job at it taking are of Sam in his recovery than he'd done in preventing the accident in the first place. A brief snippet of the dream he'd had in the night flashed by his eyes – the lifeless body of Sam laying blame on Al for his death. He quickly blinked the vision away and sat up in bed throwing his legs over the side and pushing the covers away.

"6:00," he said looking at the clock between the two beds. "I should not be awake at 6:00." Quietly he got of bed and gathered up clothes to put on and disappeared into the bathroom. He came back out a few minutes later full dressed and sat down at the desk in the room. He scribbled a quick note telling Sam that he'd gone downstairs for a quick walk and to get some coffee and propped the note up against the phone on the table between the two beds where Sam would be sure to see it when he woke up. He grabbed his coat from in the closet and quietly slipped out the door.

He made a brief stop in the lobby filling a cup with coffee before exiting out into the chill air. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigar which he stuck in his mouth before pulling a lighter out to light it. At least, he reasoned with himself, if he was going to be up this early and thinking the least he could do was indulge himself while he did it. The chances were he'd be back to the room before Sam even woke up again. 


	82. Chapter 82

Sam was awakened from a deep sleep by the ringing of the phone. He groped for it on the table knocking the pad of paper over in the process.

"Hello," he sleepily said.

"Hey, Bingo, it Bobby. Get your butt outta bed…unless you've got some honey there with you. I'm shovin' off soon and I figured we could do breakfast again," the voice on the other end enthusiastically said.

"Bingo?" Sam questioned pulling himself up to a sitting position and reaching for the pad of paper he'd knocked off the phone.

"Calavicci?" Bobby questioned. "That you?"

"Uh, no. Al's not here right now," Sam said as he quickly scanned the note.

"Oh. Hey you must be that friend of his that was in the hospital. So they finally spring you or did Bingo…I mean Al…have to break you out?"

"They released me yesterday," Sam carefully said while looking over at the alarm clock. It was only 7:30 and he decided it was far too early to be dealing with the overly enthusiastic Bobby, whoever he was. "Look, can I take a message for you and have Al call you when he gets back?" Sam asked. He tried to maintain a level of politeness but he really did want to get Bobby off the phone.

"Nah, no message. Just tell Bingo…I mean Al…that I gave him a jingle. I'll try hookin' up with him some other time since I'm getting ready to shove off now."

"Uh, ok. I will."

"Great, thanks."

Bobby hung up the phone before Sam could begin to form a goodbye. Sam shook his head slowly and hung up the phone. How anyone could be that enthusiastic this early in the morning he couldn't imagine. He totally disregarded the fact that most mornings he'd be up long before 7:30 and just as enthusiastic himself.

Throwing off the covers he grabbed the crutches from their place between the table and bed and pulled himself up heading in the direction of the bathroom. As he turned on the light and shut the door behind him he let out a sigh of relief. Finally he'd be able to use the bathroom without having any kind of audience.

He was just coming out of the bathroom when Al bustled in the door carrying several paper bags.

"What've you got there?" Sam asked watching as Al put the bags down on the circular table near the window and began pulling out the contents.

"I've got us some breakfast, that's what," Al told him looking up.

"We could have just gone downstairs," Sam pointed out.

"We could have," Al agreed, "but I didn't know if you'd be awake or not when I got back and I was hungry now."

"Oh, ok. What'd you get?" Sam asked coming over to the table and sitting in one of the chairs.

"There's bagels, cream cheese, fresh squeezed oj, and fresh coffee." Once everything was laid out on table Al put the bags aside and sat down across from Sam. "Dig in" he said grabbing a bagel and cutting it open and slathering it with cream cheese.

Sam grabbed a bagel for himself and started to break off pieces of it putting them in his mouth while sipping on a cup of the juice. "Someone named Bobby called for you a little while ago," Sam said. "He didn't leave a number just said he'd call you some other time."

"Bobby's the guy I was telling you about that I met for breakfast a couple of days ago. We were at Annapolis together."

"He seemed very…upbeat," Sam said with a smile. "He thought I was you. I've got one question, though."

"Yeah, shoot."

"Bingo?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Yeah, Bingo. It's what they used to call me. You got a problem with it?"

"No problem. I don't suppose you want to explain it, do you?" Sam prompted.

"No, I don't and no, I'm not going to. That's on a need to know basis."

"Wait a minute, here. I had to tell you about getting expelled for streaking but you're not going to tell me about Bingo? That's not fair, Al."

"Who said life was fair? Besides, you're the one who caved and spilled your guts. I, on the other hand, have experience resisting interrogation. I won't be spilling my guts about it anytime soon."

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope," Al said smugly before popping another bite of the cream cheese slathered bagel in his mouth.

"Why is it you manage to weasel out of me everything about when I was a kid but you don't tell me anything about your childhood?" Sam wondered.

"Because, it's like I said," Al explained, "I'm skilled at resisting interrogation. You, however, are like a babe in the woods when it comes to it. You're too easy to break down."

"Am I really?" Sam challenged.

"Yes, you really are. I bet by dinner I'll know exactly what they called you when you were in school."

"You're on. Loser buys dinner."

"Mmm…" Al said licking his lips. "I can taste the prime rib already."

"Don't be so confident," Sam advised.

Al went through the rest of morning and afternoon trying to get Sam to confess to what his childhood nickname had been but didn't have any luck.

"Ok, so you're a harder nut to crack than I thought you'd be," Al said while driving Sam back to the hospital for his pt appointment. "I've still got time to wear you down, though."

Sam smiled smugly at Al. "Trust me, you're never going to get it out of me and I'm not going to tell you."

It was on the drive back to the hotel that Al realized he had the means to finally pry the information out of Sam. He was hurting after his therapy session since Jo had added stairs to the repertoire and it had really taken a lot out of him. Getting into the car Sam had stated that his one goal when he got back to the hotel was to take a pain pill and lay down and give it time to work. All Al would have to do is hold the bottle of pain pills out of Sam's reach until he finally fessed up. The idea was quickly discarded, though. Sam was in real pain and to do that to him would be beyond cruel and it was something Al would never do.

It didn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of the situation after Sam was medicated. He waited until after Sam had taken the pain pill and it was starting to work. He was already starting to nod off from the combined effects of the Percoset and fatigue when Al innocently asked again what his childhood nickname was.

"Nuh uh," Sam mumbled as he burrowed his head into the pillow. "I'm not gonna tell you the kids used to call me skunk so don't even ask again."

It was only when Al started snickering that Sam lifted his head off the pillow and looked at Al that he realized what he'd done. "That's not fair," he complained. "You waited 'til after I took the pain meds."

"Ok, Sam, you're right. That wasn't fair. I'll buy dinner, ok. Since you told me what it was you mind telling me why or do I should I just think the worst?"

Sam squinted his eyes at Al and tried to process just what it was Al meant by the worst before it finally sank in. "Eww, Al, that's disgusting." 

He started getting comfortable in the bed again when Al again prompted him, "So why?"

Sam let out a sigh and lifted head up again squinting at Al through sleep bleared eyes. "Because of the streak in my hair, ok. Can I sleep now or do you wanna know anymore about my life history?" Sam slammed his head back down on the pillow and shut his eyes.

"You've had that since you were a kid?" Al asked ignoring the fact that Sam was now trying to ignore him.

Sam sighed again and lifted himself up so he was leaning on one elbow. "Look, Al, I'm really wiped right now and the that pill is really starting to kick in and finally dull the pain. You let me sleep for an hour or two and I'll answer any questions you have when I wake up. Ok?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, Sam. Sorry. You go to sleep now."

"Finally," Sam said and lay back down.

It didn't take very long for Sam to slip into a deep, drug induced sleep and he missed it when Al walked away laughing softy to himself. "Skunk. Only you, Sam. Only you." 


	83. Chapter 83

Sam ended up sleeping for a couple of hours but when he woke up the pain he'd been experiencing had dulled considerably.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up." Al said when Sam sat up in bed. He was seated at the desk going through some files that had been delivered while Sam was sleeping. "I was beginning to think you were just going to sleep the whole night through."

Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched. "Someday I hope I can get through the day without having to take a nap."

"You're just going to have to give it a little more time. The doc said you'd get tired pretty easy for a while and you're still taking some pretty strong meds." Al closed the file he had opened and put it at the top of the pile. "How do feel about getting some dinner?" he asked rising from the chair and walking over to Sam.

"Sounds good," Sam said swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Can you just give me a few minutes to take a quick shower and change? I don't think I'm exactly dressed to go out anywhere for dinner unless it's McDonald's or something." Sam was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn for his therapy session. Although the sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt were comfortable and broken in, they really wouldn't be suitable for eating out.

"Sure," Al agreed. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll bring you a change of clothes."

"Don't bother," Sam said pulling himself to his feet. "I still can't bend enough to get anything below the waist on by myself so you're just going to have to help me with that again. I'll just get dressed out here so at least you're not stuck kneeling on the hard floor in there."

"Ok," Al agreed. He was surprised that Sam was so accepting of the fact that he needed help. "Look, just do me a favor, would you? I know you don't want to keep the door to the bathroom open but could you leave it ajar just a bit so that way I can hear more easily if you need help."

"I guess I can do that. Just don't keep coming in to see if I need some help like you kept doing this morning and yesterday." Some irritation had crept into Sam's voice.

"Ok, ok," Al said with his hands up. "I was concerned but I promise, unless it sounds like you're in trouble or you call me I won't come in."

"Good."

Sam disappeared into the bathroom swinging the door closed behind him but leaving it open just a little bit.

Al started to neaten the pile of folders on the desk and straighten things up when he heard Sam call out for him. Anyone who saw him go running for the bathroom would have thought he was trying to break a land speed record.

"What's a matter, Sam? You ok? What happened?" he breathlessly asked when he burst through the door.

Sam was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. His clothes were balled up next to him on the floor and he had put a towel over his lap.

"Geez, calm down before you give yourself a coronary." Sam's voice was a mixture of humor with just a hit of frustration. "Nothing's wrong. I just realized I couldn't bend over enough to get off my left sock."

Al looked down and sure enough, Sam's right foot was bare but his left was still encased in the white athletic sock. "Is that all?" he asked exasperated.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Sam defended himself. "You're the one who came charging in here like the cavalry. I just called your name. Do you think you can get if off for me so I can get in the shower."

Al bent over a slipped the sock off Sam's foot putting it on top of the pile of clothes which he then scooped up. "Next time you better make sure you don't leave these in the middle of the floor so you don't trip over them," he advised.

"Yes, Dad," Sam sarcastically offered.

Instead of leaving the bathroom, Al continued to stand there holding the pile of Sam's clothes.

"Uh, do you think you can leave now so I can get in the shower," Sam asked when Al didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon.

Al shook himself as if he'd just woken up. "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I'll be just outside if you need me."

Al finally left the bathroom pulling the door partially shut behind him. He stood just outside the door; careful to keep out of Sam's site through the opening listening to be sure there was no trouble. When he heard the water start running he reached out his hand to the door knob tempted to push the door open to make sure that Sam had gotten in the shower ok but he stopped himself and backed away from the door. Sam had asked that he not go in without being called and he was going to try to honor that request.

"He's a big boy, Calavicci," he muttered under his breath. "You gotta let him do stuff on his own sometime."

He dropped the pile of clothes on the foot of Sam's bed and started to sort through them. The underwear and socks he deposited in the laundry bag and he folded the t-shirt and sweatpants and put them aside. Sam would need them when he went back for pt on Thursday.

He couldn't resist walking back over to the bathroom door after that was done and stopping just outside it listening. Nothing sounded amiss. The water was still running and he could faintly hear Sam moving around in the shower. So far it seemed like everything was fine.

When the water abruptly turned off he scurried away from the door and made himself busy going through the drawers and pulling out clothes for Sam to put on once he was done in the bathroom. Once that was done he forced himself to sit down and wait patiently for Sam to re-emerge from the bathroom.

He didn't have long to wait since Sam came out a few minutes later. His hair was still damp although it had been combed neatly and a towel was wrapped around his hips.

"See, Al", Sam said with a broad grin, "I took a shower all by myself and nothing bad happened. Once I can bend over fully I won't even need you to get dressed."

Sam sat down heavily on the foot of his bed next to the clothes Al had piled there. Without being asked Al grabbed the boxers off the top of the pile and pulled them up as far as Sam's knees. They followed the same process for Sam to get dressed that they'd followed in the hospital and the since.

Once Sam was dressed, Al grabbed the damp towel from its place on the bed. "If I don't put this back now it'll end up staying there until you finally go to bed tonight and then you'll be grousing about the damp spot."

"Well, I can't really carry the towel and use the crutches all at the same time," Sam said smiling innocently. They both knew crutches or not the chances were very good that Sam would have just left the towel where it lay on the bed. It was the one bad habit that Al doubted he'd ever break.

"C'mon, let's go downstairs and get something to eat," Al said coming out of the bathroom.

"We don't have to stay here in the hotel, you know," Sam said getting up from the bed and walking toward the door.

"I know that Sam," Al said before opening the door for Sam to go past him. "I happen to like it down there, though, and I think you will too."

"Whatever," Sam said throwing another smile back over his shoulder at Al. "You're buying so I guess I should let you pick."

"You remembered, that, huh?" Al asked following Sam out the door. "I wasn't sure you would since you were so dopey at the time."

"I remember, Al. I also remember that you tricked me to get me to tell you what the kids used to call me."

"So you also must remember that you told me you'd answer any of my questions if I'd let you sleep," Al said returning Sam's smile.

The smile slowly faded from Sam's face. "I did not."

"Did to," Al said gesturing for Sam to precede him into the elevator. He waited for the doors to close before continuing, "You said, and I quote, 'You let me sleep for an hour or two and I'll answer any questions you have when I wake up.' I'm gonna hold you to that."

Sam hung his head and groaned. "You're just doing this to embarrass me, aren't you?"

Al didn't answer Sam. He just chuckled at him with a slightly evil tone.

"Oh boy," Sam muttered before walking through the now open elevator doors.

Feeling just a bit on the mischievous side, Al left Sam hanging until after the waiter had taken their order and brought over their drinks, salads and rolls before he finally started to ask his questions.

"So, what gives on the Skunk thing," he asked first.

"I told you, because of this," Sam said fingering the white streak in his hair. "They said it made me look like a skunk."

"You know," Al said, "I've always wanted to ask you about that but never quite knew how. If you had the streak since you were a kid, how'd you get it?"

Sam shrugged. He picked up his soft drink and drank some of it before answering. "Don't really know. Mom said it was there since I was a baby." Sam's face grew wistful as he thought back to his childhood. "When I'd come in crying because the kids were making fun of me because of it Mom used to tell me I shouldn't let it bother me She'd tell me that it was there because it's where an angel kissed me when I was born. Then she'd kiss me there too, wipe away my tears and send me on my way."

"You got made fun of a lot as a kid, didn't you?" Al asked nonchalantly.

Sam shrugged and picked up a roll from the basket that he started to shred into little pieces. "Don't all kids get made fun of from time to time?"

"Yeah," Al agreed putting his hand over Sam's to stop the shredding. "It does more good if you eat it than just destroy it."

Sam dropped the roll and leaned back in his chair.

"Kids get made fun of all the time," Al said going back to the conversation. "They don't often get tied up in barns, though."

Sam sucked in a quick breath. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why don't you tell me about what happened in the barn on the McDonald farm."

Sam picked up the roll again and started shredding it once more. This time Al didn't stop him. "How do you know about that," he asked quietly.

"You talked about it that first night you came down with pneumonia. You were out of your mind with fever and no one could figure out why you reacted so badly when Carruthers had you put in restraints. You finally told me it was because you were tied up in that barn. So give, what happened?"

Sam shrugged throwing down the remains of the shredded roll. "There's really not that much to tell. It was just a stupid prank."

Just as Al was going to prompt Sam to relate the story the waiter came over with their meals. The both lapsed into silence until he'd put their plates down in front of him and thanked him when he was done.

"A stupid prank doesn't leave you in fear 20 or 30 years later," Al said once the waiter was out of earshot. "What happened?"

"I'm not going to eat in peace until I tell you." Sam sighed and put down his knife and fork and folded his hand against the edge of the table. "Fine, I'll tell you but then you drop it – at least until after we're done with dinner."

Al nodded his agreement.

"When I was eight I skipped a couple of grades in school. I should have been in second grade but they bumped me up to fourth instead. Let's just say I didn't make a whole lot of friends that year. Most of the kids were resentful that this little 8 year old was not only in their class but was doing better than them. I tried to just keep to myself. Tom was in junior high that year but he'd still meet me after school and walk home with me. Mom didn't want me doing that by myself yet. Anyway, one of the kids in my class, Mark, had a brother who was in Tom's class. I think his name was Joe. They knew Tom would meet after school. Somehow Mark's brother got to the school yard before Tom did and he told me that Tom had told him to tell me that he had to stay after school for some reason that day and I should walk home with Mark and Joe. They lived kind of close to us so I didn't think anything of it and went off with them.

"The McDonald place was an abandoned farm not to far out from town. When we were walking by it Joe told me that there was a dog in there that'd just had puppies and asked me if I wanted to go see them and like an idiot I said yes. Of course there were no puppies. Once we were in the barn Joe knocked me down and before I knew he'd tied me up. Seems Mark was a little put out that I'd done better than him on a math test and wanted a little revenge. The two of them went off and just left me there.

"It was already pretty dark when Tom finally found me and untied me and took me home. I guess someone said that they'd seen me leaving with Mark and Joe and when I never showed up at home he knew where to go to find out what had happened.

"By the time we got home Mom and Dad were both fit to be tied and I thought for sure they'd tan my hide for not coming home on time but Mom wouldn't stop hugging me when we got home. She wouldn't let me out of her sight for days. That's the whole story."

Finished relating the story to Al, Sam picked up his knife and fork again and started cutting into the steak.

"That's it?" Al asked incredulous. "That's where you leave it. What the hell happened to those two little nozzles who left you there?"

Sam shrugged again and kept resolutely cutting into his food. Once he chewed and swallowed the piece of steak in his mouth he answered Al. "I don't really know. I expect Dad had a thing or two to say to their father and neither one of them ever said a thing to me again or came near me." Sam shrugged again and started cutting into his steak, "It wasn't all their fault. I shouldn't have been so stupid and gone with them."

Al was aghast at Sam's matter of fact way of blaming himself. "You shouldn't have been…Sam are you nuts? You were 8 years old for crying out loud. You had no idea what they were going to do. You wanted to see puppies. There's nothing stupid about that for crying out loud. I wish I could find the two of them. If anyone's hides needed to be tanned it's theirs."

"Forget it, Al. It's over and done with now. That happened a long time ago. Besides, it's not like getting tied up is going to be an every day occurrence or something."

Al shook his head at Sam not understanding his seeming indifference – especially when he'd seen how upset he'd been when the incident had haunted his dreams. Choosing not to push Sam on it he instead opted for the joke, "You might want to rethink that getting tied up thing. It can add a certain spice if you know what I mean."

Sam knitted his brows together for a second and nearly choked on his food when Al's meaning finally penetrated. "Allll!" he chastised.

"What?" Al asked innocently.

By the time the two men finished dinner Al had been sure Sam would be tired and ready to sleep again. Quite the contrary, Sam assured him that his earlier nap had left him feeling refreshed and that he didn't think he'd be ready to sleep for a while and that he'd probably just sit for a while going through the work that Tina had forwarded.

Knowing that if he let Sam start in on work now it wouldn't be until very later…or rather early in the morning that he'd be able to get Sam to stop and go to bed. Al instead suggested that they go for a ride around the city. Surprisingly, it didn't take much to convince Sam of the merit of his idea. He guessed that after being shut up in the hospital for so long Sam needed time to just be out.

Al had another motivation for the ride as well. He knew that often times longer car rides had a soporific effect on Sam. His goal was to drive around long enough that Sam would start to nod off making it easier to convince him to go to bed when they got back to the hotel.

It took longer than Al thought it would but eventually both the monotony of the moving car as well as well as Sam's tendency to tire easily as he recovered combined and he was soon starting to drift in a twilight place between being awake and sleeping. At that point Al pointed the car in the direction of the hotel.

By the time he stopped the car at the front door Sam was very nearly asleep and it was simple for Al to steer him up to the room and help him change into sleeping attire before helping him into bed. Sam was down for the count almost before his head hit the pillow. 


	84. Chapter 84

The jangling of the phone startled Al. Once he'd gotten Sam safely tucked away in bed he'd again picked up the tattered copy of "The Three Musketeers" and settled down on his bed to read. He'd quickly gotten caught up in the book and the ringing of the phone was the last thing he expected. 

He reached over quickly to grab it before it could ring again and disturb Sam's sleep. He hadn't done more than twitch with the first ring but Al didn't want to take any chances.

"Hello," he quietly said into the receiver.

"Admiral, this is Thelma Beckett. I'm sorry to be calling late. I had a follow up appointment earlier today and we just got back. I called as soon as I heard Sam's message on the machine. Is he still awake by any chance?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Beckett. Sam's been asleep for about an hour now. If it's all the same, I don't think it's such a good idea to wake him up."

"Oh, no," Thelma agreed. "Don't wake him. I'm sure he's still getting pretty tired and needs all the rest he can get. Besides, I'll probably get a more truthful answer from you if I ask how he's doing."

Al laughed softly and Thelma's perception. It was very true that no matter how he was Sam would reassure his mother that he was just fine. "He had a pretty good day. He had a pt appointment earlier this afternoon and they added a few more things to it so he was pretty sore and tired afterwards but after some pain meds and a nap he bounced back. He's still tiring out pretty fast but the doctor said that'll happen for a while. At least he's starting to get his appetite back."

Al heard the sigh of relief on the other end. "That's so good to hear. I was worried after I talked to Sam yesterday. He sounded so tired but kept telling me he was fine. I wasn't sure if he was telling me the whole truth. You know how he'll hold back just to spare me."

"Well, he's only doing it because he doesn't want you to worry," Al explained in defense of Sam.

"I know that, Admiral. I just wish he wouldn't treat me like I'm a piece of china and if he handles me too roughly I'm going to shatter. I'm getting enough of that from Katie right now.

"I'm sure you are," Al agreed. "I couldn't imagine Katie not being like that right now. You gave us all a scare yourself. How are you doing?"

"Me, I'm just fine, Admiral, it's Sam that we should be worrying about," Thelma said trying to deflect any concern away from herself.

"Uh huh," Al said unconvinced. "Maybe I should just talk to Katie instead."

"Not you too, Admiral. If you must know I'm still pretty tired and not quite up to speed yet. The doctor said that's just going to take a little while but I can go back to my normal routine. He just gave me a clean bill of health this afternoon. Now if I could just convince my daughter that I can do more than just sit idly around the house knitting. If anyone should be taking it easy it's her in her condition."

Al genuinely laughed at Thelma's suggestion that Katie take it easy. The sound was enough to disturb Sam who moved fitfully in the bed. Al quickly bit back the laughter and remained silent until Sam quieted down without waking.

"Admiral?" Thelma asked with concern in her voice when Al went silent. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Al reassured her, his voice pitched lower. "I just thought Sam was waking up is all but he settled back down."

"I really should let you go then so he doesn't wake up. Ask him to call me tomorrow morning. I'll be up early so anytime is fine."

"I will, Mrs. Beckett," Al agreed. "You have a good night."

"You too, Admiral and give my love to Sam."

"I will Ma'am."

After saying his goodbyes, Al hung up the phone quietly before getting out of bed and softly walking over to Sam. He looked like he was still sleeping deeply despite the slight disturbance and would probably sleep that way for the rest of the night. Al twitched the blanket back in place where Sam's earlier movements had dislodged it. Just as he was ready to brush his hand over Sam's forehead checking for a fever he pulled it back remembering Sam's chastisement a couple of days ago.

Sam was no where near 100 yet and it would be a while before he was but Al was starting to realize that that's the direction he was headed and if he didn't start to reign in his tendency to constantly be checking on him it would only become an obstacle in their path. Almost in answer to Al's silent thoughts Sam muttered something indecipherable before rolling over onto his side so that his back was to Al.

"I get it, Pal," Al whispered, "I need to start giving you some space. But how do I do that when I feel like I'm responsible for you?"

With no answer to his question forthcoming, Al went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. He checked the locks on the door, slipping the security lock into place, before climbing into bed himself and turning out the light. It seemed as if there was some kind of connection between the bedside lamp and Sam. As soon as he switched it off Sam sat up in bed blinking sleepily.

"Al?" he muttered. "Wha' happ'd?"

Al climbed back out of bed and crossed the distance between the two beds. Taking hold of Sam's shoulders he gently but firmly guided the half asleep man until he once again was lying against the pillow. "Nothing happened, the light just went off. Go back to sleep."

"Ok," Sam breathed and rolled over onto his side snuggling down into the blanket.

"Why can't you be that easy when you're awake?" Al wondered before slipping back into bed himself.

There were some plusses for Al this night. The dream from the night before didn't seem to be making a reoccurrence and he was so tired after several restless nights that he drifted right off to sleep.

Unfortunately on the negative side was his tendency to be a light sleeper and Sam's tendency to be a restless sleeper and would sometimes talk in his sleep. This wasn't the first time Sam and Al had shared a hotel room and he'd learned to tune out the noises that Sam would make at night. He'd become so keyed toward responding to the least amount of restlessness from Sam over the last couple of weeks that each sound and each movement would pull him toward wakefulness.

Each time Sam would shift restlessly in bed Al would raise his head up watching over the slight distance until Sam would settle down again. Each time he'd hear the soft mumbles coming from Sam he'd strain to hear what it was he was saying to be certain there were no nightmares haunting his sleep.

The first time he realized Sam was muttering about his string theory he found it amusing. Even in sleep the scientist in Sam was constantly theorizing. When he woke up for the fifth time that night because the sleeping Sam was again trying to explain his string theory, Al had to control the urge to get up and put his hand over Sam's mouth in an effort to muffle him.

The straw that finally broke the camels' back was when he was woken up at 5:00 in the morning not by Sam's movements or even his mumblings but instead because he'd started to grind his teeth.

"Geez," Al whispered into the dark, "how much noise can one person make and still stay asleep."

Al lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling he couldn't see listening to the repetitive noise over and over until at last he just couldn't take it anymore. He slipped quietly from his bed and padded over to Sam's. There was a part of him that just wanted to shake the younger man until he woke up but Al realized how cruel that would be. Sam was still recovering and needed his rest. Instead he settled for nudging his shoulder until Sam finally complained sleepily and rolled over. Thankfully the teeth grinding stopped.

Al crawled back into his own bed and turned his back in Sam's direction. With any luck Sam would sleep quietly for another couple of hours and Al would get a chance for a few more hours sleep, too.


	85. Chapter 85

Warm sunlight. It was the next thing that Al was aware of. He squinted his eyes open scowling at the bright sunshine pouring through the open curtains of the window.

"Hey, you're awake." Sam said brightly.

"How could I not be?" Al groused pushing himself out of bed. "Having a spotlight on my face tends to do that."

"Oh, sorry," Sam said though he didn't look overly apologetic. "I was getting tired of the darkness. I didn't think you were ever going to wake up. Do you know what time it is?"

"No and I don't think I really care." Al disappeared into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

When he re-emerged minutes later he was slightly more awake but his mood hadn't improved any. He took note of the fact that Sam already seemed to have taken a shower and somehow managed to get dressed on his own. He was still too tired to bother figuring that puzzle out yet, though.

"How long have you been up?" Al asked before slumping in a chair by the window.

"Since 7:00," Sam distractedly answered while pawing through the pile of files. He had an almost gleeful look on his face.

"Since 7:00?" Al asked with surprise. "What the hell time is it?"

"Uh, 8:30?" Sam answered absent-mindedly. "You really slept late."

"Yeah, well someone kept waking me up all night." The slightly venomous tone of Al's voice didn't escape Sam's notice.

"What'd I do?" Sam asked defensively looking up from the pile of files.

"More like what didn't you do? You didn't stay still the whole night and you kept explaining your string theory. You must have some pretty interesting dreams. At 5:00 this morning you decided to start grinding your teeth. I thought you were gonna break the windows you were so damned loud. I forgot what a nuisance you can be at night."

Sam looked chagrined. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was keeping you up."

"Don't worry about," Al said waving off Sam's apology and rising from the chair. He rummaged through one of the dresser draws pulling out clothes for the day and heading in the direction of the bathroom again. "I've just got to learn how to tune out all your normal night noises again." After the bathroom door had closed behind him he added softly to himself, "of course I've got to figure out how to do that and still hear you if you need something."

Once he'd showered, shaved and dressed for the day Al felt a lot more human and ready to take on the day.

"Put that stuff away so we can go get some breakfast," he told Sam when he came out of the bathroom.

"Hmm..." Sam replied distracted.

"I said," Al began as he put his hand over the contents of the folder Sam was reading, "Put this away so we can go get some breakfast."

Sam leaned back suddenly in the chair when Al put his hand down in front of him. "Can you give me a second," he asked irritably pushing Al's hand out of the way. "I just want to finish this."

"No," Al said picking up the folder and putting it down closed on the pile. "I know what your seconds are. By the time you're done it's going to be time for dinner."

"Fine," Sam said pushing the chair back from table. I think I need a little help first, though. Although he'd managed to dress without Al's assistance he still wasn't able to get on his socks and sneakers without some help.

"How'd you manage to get dressed by yourself anyway?" Al asked as he put on Sam's socks and then tied his sneakers.

"It was…interesting," Sam replied. He looked mildly put out that he still had to rely on Al to get completely dressed. "You should have been awake for show."

"I'll try to keep that in mind for tomorrow morning," Al responded dryly as he rose to his feet. He handed the crutches to Sam and waved him in the direction of the door. "I don't suppose you'd care to enlighten me how it was you got your stuff from the dresser to wherever you got dressed. If you tell me you hopped around the room without the crutches I'm going to tie you in bed tonight."

"If you really have to know," Sam said as he walked onto the elevator, "I threw them from the dresser to the bed." He waited until the elevator doors closed and there could be no witnesses before smirking at Al and adding, "I saved all my hopping for when I was in the bathroom." When he saw the stormy look that came over Al's face at his kidding he quickly started wishing there were some witnesses to prevent his murder.

"Oh, that's really smart, Sam. Just go hopping around in the bathroom where you can fall and split your head open. Do you ever bother to think or do you always act impulsively? That's it; you keep your butt in bed in the mornings until I'm up. I'm not gonna get out of bed to find you bleeding on the bathroom floor."

Sam stared at Al incredulous while the rant kept going and going. While a part of him want to laugh at Al's reaction the other part of him grew angrier and angrier and Al kept going on.

"Stop it," Sam finally said harshly. "Just stop it. Last time I checked you weren't my father. Geez, Al, where the hell's your sense of humor. I was just joking with you. Do you really think I'd do something so dumb I'd end up hurting myself again? I want to get rid of these things, not be on them even longer." As soon as the elevator doors opened Sam started walking out as fast as he possibly could. "I'm getting real tired of this. You're dogging my every step and telling me what to do like I'm some little kid and can't figure it out for myself." Sam spun around as best he could to face Al. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Al stepped right up to Sam and his voice dropped threateningly low. "You wanna know who I think I am. I'm the guy who thought he watched you get killed. I'm the one who sat next to you in the hospital day and in and day out worrying about you and if you'd pull through. I'm the guy who went to bat for you when everyone said your ideas would never work and that you just must be crazy. I thought I was your friend but I guess I'm wrong." Al backed away from Sam. "Well fine, if that's the way you want it, it's fine with me. You're on your own to do whatever you want however you want. I'm outta here."

Al turned abruptly on his heel and stalked toward the door. Sam stood rooted to the spot for just a second stunned at the vehemence in Al's voice before he followed him as quickly as he could.

"Al," he called to his friend's retreating back. "Don't you leave me like this. Don't you walk out on me, too." He used his shoulder to bang open one of the doors flanking the revolving door before the doorman had a chance to pull it open for him. Unfortunately it didn't open that far and started to swing shut before Sam was fully through. It bumped into him with just enough force to throw off his balance and send him sprawling to his hands and knees before he crumpled over on his right side.

Al heard Sam calling out to him but ignored him and kept resolutely walking from the hotel. It was only when he heard a clatter behind him and Sam's yell of his name cut off that he turned around. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Sam on the ground. He sprinted back to his fallen friend dropping down to a crouch when he reached him. "Oh God, Sam, are you ok?" he asked breathlessly

Some how Sam had had the presence of mind to catch most of his weight on his right leg and his hands before falling over on his side sparing his injured left leg most of the fall. The doorman had already reached Sam and was asking if he was all right.

Sam stayed in the position he'd fallen, too stunned to answer the doorman. It wasn't until he felt Al's hand on his back and heard his voice asking if he were ok that he finally looked up. "I'm…I'm ok," he said stunned.

"Are you sure?" both Al and the doorman chorused.

"Yeah," Sam said nodding and pushing up so that he was sitting on the ground instead of lying on it. "I'm ok, really. Help me up?" he asked Al in a pleading whisper as his eyes darted around taking in the crowd of people starting to gather.

"Not so fast, Pal," Al said. "I want to make sure you didn't do any damage."

"There isn't any, Al. Nothing hurts." He locked eyes with Al. "Please, just help me up."

Al finally relented and gave a quick nod of his head before helping Sam back up to his feet. The doorman quickly came over handing them the fallen crutches.

"Are you sure, you're ok, Sir," the doorman asked anxiously.

Sam gave the man a small smile. "Really, I'm fine. Pride's the only thing I hurt."

"C'mon," Al said leading him through the door that the doorman held open. "Let's get you inside.

Once they were in the safety of the lobby and away from most of the prying eyes on the street Al forced Sam to sit down in one of the chairs. "Are you sure you're ok?" he asked. "That looked like a nasty fall. Maybe we should run you by the hospital and make sure you didn't do anything."

"No, no hospital," Sam answered quickly. "I'm not going back there. I'm fine, Al. Really. I just banged my right knee a little and skinned my palms but that's it."

Not taking Sam's word Al quickly ran his hands up Sam's injured left leg. Nothing felt out of place and Sam didn't seem to flinch at his touch. Al hoped that meant there was no new injury. He'd have to keep a close eye on him since Sam was resolute about not going to the hospital. He couldn't get Sam's jeans up high enough to check his right knew but when he rested his hand on it it didn't feel like it was swelling. He'd probably have a bruise on it. Satisfied that Sam didn't seem to have caused himself any additional injury to his broken leg Al grabbed both of his wrists to check his hands. Like Sam had said, the palms of both were scraped red from the impact with the pavement.

"I think we should go back upstairs," Al said quietly once certain Sam hadn't sustained any serious injuries.

"I think you're right," Sam agreed. There were still too many curious eyes in the lobby and he was anxious to escape them.

Al helped Sam up from the chair and the two walked slowly back to the elevators. Neither said anything until they were back in their room with the door closed behind them.

"Drop your jeans. I want to make sure that knee's ok." Al said disappearing into the bathroom.

When he came back out he found Sam sitting at the foot of his bed. He'd dropped his jeans and kicked of his sneakers. They were in pile at his feet. Sam was staring resolutely forward at a spot on the wall.

Al picked the jeans up and folded them before laying them down on the bed next to Sam and pushed the sneakers out of his way. He pulled the desk chair over and sat down in it across from Sam. He prodded gently at Sam's bare knee where a red mark was already visible on it. The only reaction he got from Sam was a slight twitch of his cheek. "That hurt?" he asked him.

Sam shook his head slightly. "No more than it did when I'd fall and skin my knees as a kid," he said quietly.

Grabbing the soapy washcloth that he'd brought out of the bathroom Al grabbed Sam's hands and cleaned out the scrapes on first one hand and then the other before patting them dry with a towel. "Gonna need to get some gauze to cover those up," he said.

Sam pulled his hands from Al's grasp to look at them himself. "They're fine," he said as he closed his hands into fists in his lap.

"They're not gonna feel that way for long with the crutches," Al observed. He got up from the chair and pushed it back under the desk before disappearing back into the bathroom with the washcloth and towel. When he came back out Sam was still in the same spot he'd left him.

"Hey, you just gonna sit there all day in your under shorts or are you gonna to put your pants back on?"

Sam picked up the folded jeans but just held onto them instead of putting them on. "I'm sorry, Al," he finally said.

Al sighed and dropped heavily to the bed next to Sam. "I know you are, Kid, and I am too. The two of us said some things we really shouldn't have. We're both tired and stressed and probably getting sick of seeing each other. I know you didn't mean it and neither did I."

"That still doesn't make it right. You've done a lot for me the last couple of weeks and I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you did leave."

"Not gonna do that, Sam. I'm not gonna walk out on you." Al deliberately used the same words that Sam had called out to him. "Now c'mon," he said as he lightly punched Sam in the shoulder, "let's get you dressed again and try to get some breakfast. I don't know about you but I'm still hungry."

Sam shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, sure."

Al waited patiently while Sam pulled his jeans back on. He wanted nothing more than to go over and help but if he kept doing that he'd end up driving a wedge between the two of them. Sam had made that clear earlier. Al may have made it seem like everything was ok for Sam's sake but deep inside he knew it wasn't. He knew he was avoiding a problem and the two of them had to sit down and talk it out but he didn't have it in him to do it now. No, it would be easier to just avoid the problem until it couldn't be avoided anymore. He'd just have to find new ways to keep an eye on Sam and take care of him so that Sam wouldn't realize that's what he was doing. 


	86. Chapter 86

The rest of the day passed uneventfully for the two men. After they'd had breakfast they returned to the room just in time as Thelma called as soon as she got up that morning. Sam spent a ½ hour on the phone talking with his mother and sister assuring them that he was recovering without any problems and would be as good as new in no time at all. Any mention of his fall was omitted.

Once all of the health issues were out of the way, he'd grilled Katie quite thoroughly on what the cardiologist had said at Thelma's follow-up visit, they'd spent the rest of the time just catching up.

While Sam was on the phone with his family Al had opted to go for a walk to give him some privacy. He got back to the room just after Sam had hung up and once again had started to delve through the pile of files.

"I've got an idea," Al said as soon as he got back to the room. "You don't have any appointments today at the hospital so instead of being stuck in this room all day why don't we go down to one of the Smithsonians for a little while. It's not like we get a lot of time off so why not take advantage of it?"

Sam looked up from his work. "I don't know, Al. It's gonna be hard for me to get around much and there's a lot here I really need to catch up on. Why don't you go ahead without me."

"Sam, you've spent the last two weeks in a hospital. You need to get out and see different people not throw yourself back into work. Trust me, you take a few hours now to just relax and it's not gonna kill anyone."

"Ok, so nothing's going to happen if I don't do anything today," Sam said leaning back in the chair. "That still doesn't eliminate the problem that I can't walk for long stretches yet. Those museums are huge and don't suggest getting a wheelchair because I'm not going that route."

"I wasn't going to," Al said. "There are plenty of places you can stop and sit down and rest and if it's too much we come back here. If you don't want to do it because you're too tired or honestly think it'll be too much for you, Sam, then that's fine, we'll stay right here. I just know you were tired of being stuck in one place for so long so I thought this would be a good idea if you felt up to it. It's your call, though."

"Which one did you have in mind, anyway?" Sam asked. In all honesty he really wouldn't mind the time out and seeing other people. It was his mobility that he honestly questioned. It seemed strange that Al was suggesting he do anything but sit in the room, especially after the events of the morning. Sam had been getting the feeling that if Al could, he'd wrap him up in bubble wrap to keep him safe. Sam decided it might not be such a bad idea to get out for a little while before Al got protective again. Besides, it would do Al some good to get out and do something else besides just worrying about him and Sam had the feeling that unless he agreed to go Al would just sit here with him all day.

"I was thinking the Air & Space Museum. Of course if there's someplace else you'd like to go, that's fine, too."

"So let's say I agree to this," Sam began not wanting to agree too easily, "How do you propose getting down there? That's a good walk from here and if you drive there'll be no place to park nearby."

"We take a taxi and they drop us off right at the door. Any other questions?"

"I haven't been there in a while but I seem to remember there are steps to get in the building. You know I just started stairs and can't get up more than a few of them at time. Got any ideas on how to get around that?"

"There's a ramp," Al quickly fired back with.

"You've really thought this all through, haven't you? Ok," Sam agreed pushing the chair back from the table. "Let's go then."

Al was a little taken aback by Sam's quick acceptance. "You'll go?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Besides, who knows when the next time you'll let me out is gonna come. Might as well take advantage." He smiled as he said the words to take some of the sting out. The events of the earlier that morning were still close in his mind and he didn't want to do anything to derail the peace they'd made with each other. "I just need to get my sneakers back on."

"Why am I starting to feel like Prince Charming?" Al muttered under his breath. "Where'd you leave them?" he asked louder.

"Does that make me Cinderella?" Sam asked with a laugh. "They're between the beds."

"A damned ugly Cinderella," Al said as he retrieved the sneakers from where Sam had left them and crouched down to put them on for him. "You know," he remarked keeping his voice level, "you keep leaving these in the middle of the floor like that and one of us going to trip over them."

Sam gave Al a half-smile. "Ooops?"

"Yeah, oops. It's like you leave a trail behind you." The chastisement was delivered with humor.

"I just want you to know where I've been," Sam answered lightly.

"All I have to do is look for where you're sprawled out on the floor after you trip over them and fall."

"Al, let's not do this again, please," Sam asked earnestly. "Let's just go out and relax, ok."

"You're right, Kid," Al said climbing to his feet. "We can't keep going in that circle. Let me get your coat."

"Still cold out," Sam asked moving from the chair to the foot of the bed.

"It's still March out," Al answered handing Sam his coat and waiting while he pulled it on before leading the way out of the room.

They got in a taxi at the door of the hotel and it dropped the off at the front entrance of the Air & Space Museum. The time Sam and Al spent there ended up being more fun than Sam would have imagined. It was the first time the two of them had had in a long time – too long of a time, to just relax and enjoy themselves.

Al had taken on the role of tour guide explaining to Sam all the details he knew about each exhibit they went through and Sam soaked the knowledge up like a sponge. They didn't get to see much of the museum since Sam had to frequently stop and rest. After their first ½ hour he'd almost given in and suggested to Al that maybe they should go back to the entry area and arrange for a wheelchair so they could get around easier. He knew he was slowing Al down, a lot, and had started to feel guilty.

He'd taken one look at Al's face and bitten back the suggestion. He didn't seem at all bothered by the slower pace they were setting and looked as relaxed and at peace as Sam could remember seeing him since before the accident. Sam didn't want to take the chance of doing or saying anything that would disrupt that peace.

They'd had lunch in the cafeteria of the museum. Al got Sam settled in at a table near the floor to ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the Capitol and gone through the food line coming back with burgers, fries and soft drinks for the two of them. Sam still didn't have much of an appetite but as he'd been doing for the past two days, he forced himself to eat as much of the food in front of him as he could. If he hadn't it would have just been more cause for worry.

After lunch they spent another couple of hours wandering around but soon the interval between rest periods for Sam got shorter and the amount of time he'd need to sit and rest got longer.

"How 'bout we head back now?" Al suggested when Sam asked to take a break for the second time in less than 15 minutes. "You look like you're starting to get tired."

Sam nodded his head as he slumped down onto the nearest bench. "Sounds like a good idea. Just give me a few minutes first, ok?" He started to rub up and down his left thigh which had started to ache. This was the most walking he'd done since being released and his leg was letting him know let alone the ache in his side from his ribs.

"You sit here and catch you're breath and I'll be right back," Al said before disappearing into the gift store that they'd stopped in front of.

Sam watched Al go into the store and wondered what it was he was looking for in there. His curiosity was prompting him to get up and follow but his body argued to the contrary. In the end his body won the argument and he stayed put on the bench until Al reappeared.

"Here, you look you can use this," Al said when he came back. He handed Sam the bottle of water he'd purchased in the store as well as the bottle of painkillers that he pulled from his pocket.

"Thanks," Sam said shaking one of the tablets from the bottle and swallowing it with water. "I didn't even think to bring them with me. Pretty dumb, I guess."

Al took the pill bottle back from Sam and stuffed it back into his pants pocket. "You're not dumb, Sam. A little absentminded sometimes, but not dumb. I'm gonna go grab our coats, why don't you stay here and give that a little time to work."

"No, it's ok," Sam said climbing to his feet. "We have to go that way anyway so there's no sense in you going back and forth."

When they'd first arrived at the museum Al had suggested that it would be a good idea to get one of the rental lockers to put their coats in. It was too warm in the museum to keep them on and Sam wouldn't be able to carry his and use the crutches at the same time. After a quick stop to get their coats from the locker they were on their way to the exit.

They'd had to wait outside for a few minutes before they got a cab back to the hotel. By that time the percoset had already started to kick in giving Sam a drowsy, disconnected feeling. It was only due to Al's guidance that he made it from the cab to their hotel room without getting lost or walking into a wall along the way.

As soon as he got into the room he headed right over to his bed stretching out on it. It didn't matter that he still had his coat or his shoes on. All he could think of was sleeping.

"Hey, sit up for a second, Sam" Al prompted while guiding him into the requested position. "Let's get your coat off so you can be comfortable.

Sam clumsily tried to help but his head felt so stuffed with cotton and the only command his brain seemed willing to process at the moment was 'sleep'. "I feel like I'm 5 years old again with all these afternoon naps," he complained sleepily.

Al chuckled softly as he pulled the pillows out from under the spread and guided Sam to lie back against them before pulling his sneakers off. "If you want I can get your teddy bear," he offered.

"Bear," Sam responded nearly asleep. "His name's just Bear not Teddy." He burrowed his head into the pillow until he'd found a comfortable spot and released himself into sleep. He didn't even feel it as Al spread a blanket over him.


	87. Chapter 87

When Sam woke up the light in the room was very dim. He guessed that he'd slept long enough for the sun to start to set. He felt something soft and furry under his chin and glanced to do see Bear cradled against his chest. "That's odd," he thought. "I remember Al saying something about him before I fell asleep but I know I didn't have him. I'm too old to be sleeping with a stuffed bear."

Sam pulled Bear from under the blanket and reached over to put him on the night table between the beds. He didn't notice the piece of paper he knocked off that fluttered to land in the space between his bed and the table.

He rolled over carefully onto his back wincing at the pins and needles feel in his arm. Evidently he'd slept the whole time in the same position. He found it odd that there were no lights on in the room. Not only that but it didn't feel like anyone else was in the room. "Al?" he called out tentatively. He waited a few moments but when there was no answer he called out Al's name again, propping himself up to turn on the light.

There was no one else in the room. "Maybe he's in the bathroom," he said to himself. He grabbed the crutches and slipped from the bed to see if Al was in the bathroom. The door to it was open and the light turned off. "Al?" Sam called out again flipping on the light in the bathroom. He doubted that Al would be in there in the dark but he had to check anyway. It was, as he'd expected empty.

"He must have gone out," Sam whispered. He went back over to the table between the beds and looked for a note on top of it. There wasn't one just as there wasn't one on the desk, the table, the dresser or anywhere else in the room.

"Where'd he go?" Sam asked aloud as he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. Since he'd woken up in the hospital Al hadn't left without making sure Sam knew where he was either by telling him directly or leaving a note. This time there was nothing. Sam sat quietly on the bed staring at the door willing it to open and for Al to walk in as his mind started to supply a variety of reasons why Al had gone out and not left him a note. He kept coming back to the same reason. After what had happened this morning Al had really left.

His heartbeat quickened as he thought about the implications of Al being gone. Aside from his immediate predicament he just couldn't see how the project would be able to go on. They were a team. Project Quantum Leap might have been his dream but together he and Al had made it a reality. Even beyond just the project Sam couldn't see how he, personally, would be able to continue without Al.

In the time they'd known each other and become close friends Sam had grown to depend on Al to be his voice of reason. When he started dreaming too big Al was there to reel him back down to earth. When he doubted himself and what he could do, Al had been there to bolster his confidence – to believe in him.

In the two weeks that had gone by, his dependence on Al had grown without his awareness of it. The thought of being in the room alone for another minute terrified Sam. Unconsciously he reached for the stuffed bear on the night table looking for solace in his childhood friend. He still didn't understand why Al had tucked it in bed with him.

Finally he couldn't stand the silence and the waiting any longer and decided to go out and look for Al. He hesitated at the door of the room realizing he didn't have a keycard to get back in. Al had gotten one for him the first night he was out of the hospital but he couldn't remember where he'd put it. It didn't matter. He was determined to find Al and bring him back. He'd have a keycard so he could open the door. It also didn't make much difference to Sam that he didn't have on any shoes and that he hadn't bothered to grab his coat either.

The whole elevator ride down to the lobby the same two thoughts kept circling around in his head – "I've got to find him" and "What if he never comes back?"

He crossed the lobby ignoring the curious looks of everyone who walked by. He pushed through the door careful this time not to let it knock him over. He waved off the doorman when he came over asking if Sam needed any help or if he needed a cab. He wouldn't know where Al was. It was up to Sam to find him.

He got as far as the edge of the sidewalk and stopped looking in both directions. Which way would Al have gone? Which way would he have to go? Arbitrarily he turned to his right heading for the corner. The cold seeping through his socks from the ground barely registered although he did shiver as the cold wind hit him.

When he got to the corner he was faced with another decision. Should he cross the street and keep going straight or go to the left or the right. Again he chose to turn to the right. He'd gone no more than a couple of yards from the corner when he saw a familiar figure heading in his direction. "Al!" he called out hurrying his steps as best he could. He'd found him and he wasn't going to lose him.


	88. Chapter 88

The last thing Al expected to see walking back to the hotel was Sam hurrying up the street in his direction. He couldn't fathom what would have brought the younger man outside. As he drew closer he realized that Sam had neither a coat on nor shoes which spurred him to jog over to him.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing out here without a coat or shoes?" he asked the shivering man.

"Al?" Sam questioned in a whisper reaching out a hand to gingerly touch Al almost as if he expected him to disappear if he did.

Al dropped the bag he was carrying on the ground and shrugged out of his coat. "Are you trying to come down with pneumonia again?" he asked as he manhandled Sam into his coat. Sam had become oddly quiet after whispering Al's name and didn't protest the way Al handled him.

"C'mon, let's you get inside," Al said turning Sam in the direction of the hotel and bending over to scoop up the bag. Something must have happened for Sam to be outside without coat or shoes but Al's first priority was to get him back inside where he could get him warmed up.

Sam remained silent the whole way back to the hotel although he kept darting glances at Al out of the corner of his eye.

"Hang on a second. Let's get you something hot to drink," Al said stopping at the table in the lobby with coffee and tea. He quickly put together a cup of tea for Sam before leading the way up to the room.

Once inside Al dropped the cup of tea and bag on the table by the window and turned up the heat in the room. Sam was standing in the middle of the floor shivering and looking lost.

"C'mon, Kid. Sit down," he urged leading Sam over to the bed. He took the crutches from him and leaned them up against the wall before pulling the coat off of Sam. He grabbed the blanket that was balled up on the bed and wrapped it around Sam.

"You mind telling me why you were out taking a walk without any shoes or a coat," Al asked while rummaging in one of the drawers for a pair of socks to replace the damp pair Sam had on. "Sam?" Al prompted as he pulled the socks of off Sam and chafed the cold flesh trying to warm it up.

Sam didn't answer him. He just stayed huddled in the blanket staring down at Al. He hadn't taken his eyes off of him since they'd returned to the room.

"Sam?" Al asked again sitting beside him on the bed. "What's going on, Kiddo?" he gently asked reaching up to squeeze the back of Sam's neck. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"No," Sam finally whispered. "You went away."

"I went away?" Al questioned. "What do you mean I went away? I was only out for a little while."

"You went away." Sam repeated.

"Sam, did you think I just left you here?" Al questioned carefully. "That I wasn't going to come back?"

Sam slowly nodded his agreement with what Al said. He finally stopped watching Al's every movement and instead started to look everywhere around the room but at Al.

"Why'd you think something crazy like that?" Al asked then he quickly remembered the argument this morning and that he had, in fact, been ready to walk out on Sam then. "Is this because of what happened this morning?"

Again Sam nodded at him. "You're mad at me," he quietly voiced.

Al sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. The other hand went from squeezing the back of Sam's neck to rubbing up and down his back. He'd been worrying so much about Sam's physical well-being that somehow he'd forgotten that he must be just as affected emotionally by everything.

"I'm not mad at you, Sam," he explained. "Sure, I was angry this morning but I'm not now. I know I said some things that I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. We were both angry and frustrated this morning but it doesn't mean I'm going to leave you. I thought we'd straightened all that out."

"You were going to this morning," Sam said finally looking at Al again.

Al blew out a breath. Suddenly he felt like he was walking through a minefield. The only difference was if he set off one these mine's it wasn't him who'd get caught in the explosion. Instead it would be Sam. "It may have looked that way but I was just going somewhere to cool off. I was angry and you were angry and I didn't think the two of us being together was really a good thing then. I was going to come back just like I was coming back tonight. I'm not going to leave you alone, Sam. I don't want you to even think of that."

"I…I know," Sam said hesitantly. "I was just…I was…"

"What, Sam? Scared?" Al asked gently guessing what effect waking up alone in the room with no idea of Al's whereabouts might have had on Sam.

Sam nodded in agreement before shifting his gaze back down to his lap again.

"Aw, Sammy. It's ok to be scared, Kid. After all you've been through, I'd say it's pretty natural." Al moved his arm so that it rested around Sam's shoulders and squeezed giving him a one-armed hug. "I'm not going to just up and leave you hanging by yourself so I don't want you to let that bother you again, ok?" Al gave Sam's shoulders another squeeze.

Sam nodded his head again but still kept his gaze in his lap. "I just don't want to be alone."

"Well, you won't be," Al said authoritatively and got up from the bed. "Right now I think we should eat some dinner before it gets stone-cold. That's why I was out. I didn't think you'd be up to going out again tonight and I know this great Italian place close by so I went out to get us some dinner. I'm gonna guess you didn't see the note I left you about that."

"What note?" Sam asked looking up.

Al moved over to the nightstand lifting Bear from it and looking on surface. "The one I left right here except it's not here now. I know I left it here though. I stuck it right near the phone after I put the bear in bed with you. That's really strange." Al turned a small circle looking around the room as if the note would jump out of wherever it went.

"I guess it doesn't matter now," Sam said pushing the blanket away. "I just over reacted is all. No harm done." He grabbed the crutches from beside the bed and pulled himself up and walked over the table sitting down in the chair closest to the heater.

Al shot a quick suspicious look over to Sam concerned about the quicksilver change in his emotions and how he seemed to easily shake off his earlier fear. Al had a pretty good idea that it was a front Sam was putting up and though he dearly would have loved to have pushed through it he was also concerned about setting off any of those emotional mines that seemed to surround Sam. If Sam was going to shake it off and play the "let's pretend everything's ok game," he'd follow his lead and play it too - at least for tonight.

"Here," Al said wrapping the blanket around Sam's shoulders again, "keep that on until you warm up. You're still shivering."

Sam tried a weak smile out. "I guess I should've taken a coat with me."

"Yeah, that might not have been a bad idea," Al agreed. "I don't think this is gonna taste too good now," he said grabbing the cup of tea from the table. "I'm gonna go grab some soda's from the vending machine. You want anything in particular."

"I'll go with you," Sam quickly said pulling himself from the chair.

"No, you stay put and get warmed up," Al said pushing him back down to the chair. "I'll be right back, ok?" he emphasized.

Sam bit his lower lip and swallowed before nodding. "Yeah, ok."

"Ok. So what do you want to drink?"

"I don't now," Sam said with a shrug. "Anything's fine."

"I don't think they have 'anything'," Al said with a laugh trying to lighten the mood. The most he got back in response was another weak, half-smile.

Al detoured quickly into the bathroom dumping the cup of tea in the sink before opening the door to leave the room. He flipped the safety latch down so that when he let the door close it would catch on it leaving it ajar. "I'm gonna keep the door open a bit while I'm in the hall that way if you need anything you can just holler," he said casually over his shoulder at Sam before slipping out the door. Since their room was close to both the elevators and the vending machines he figured by leaving the door ajar Sam would be able to hear what he was doing and allay any lingering fear that Al was going to take off again.

When he got back into the room Sam was sitting tensely in the chair staring at the door. As soon as Al came in his shoulders slumped in relief. Al chose to ignore Sam's obvious relief and put the cans of soda on the table. "Wouldn't have much mattered what you wanted. Everything was out except ginger ale," he said as he started to take the food containers from the bag.

"This is fine," Sam said grabbing one of the cans. He wiped off the edge of it with one of the napkins Al had pulled from the bag before popping the top of it and taking a long drink.

"Thirsty?" Al asked watching.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam answered putting the can down. "So, what'd you get?" he asked indicating the still sealed containers of food.

"Let's see," Al said pulling the cover off the first one. "Here's some pasta, there's eggplant parm, and some chicken parm." He handed Sam one of the plastic plates that had been tucked into the bag and put the other one down at his place. "Dig in," he said before sitting down and loading up his plate with food.

Al frowned as he watched Sam put the barest minimum of food in his plate and then start pushing it around the plate. "That all you gonna eat?" he asked in concern.

"Hmmm? Yeah. I'm not really hungry right now. Guess I'm still pretty full from that burger this afternoon." Sam stuck a fork full of food into his mouth and chewed resolutely. "I had a great time this afternoon. You'd make a great tour guide you, know."

Al recognized the evasive change of subject for what it was but didn't point it out to Sam. If it made him feel comfortable to steer the conversation away from anything that had happened in the last hour or so, Al would let him.

"I've given it some serious thought but there's this slightly looney physicist. You know, the absent-minded professor type. He's got this idea about time travel that he wants me to help him with?"

"Looney? Absent-minded?" Sam questioned rising to the bait laid out by Al.

"That's slightly looney," Al corrected with a smile. "Anyway, he'd be a mess if I wasn't around to keep things on the straight and narrow what with dealing with government oversight and funding and all. Otherwise, I'd be in the tour guide business faster than you could think."

"I'd say that 'slightly looney, absent-minded professor type of physicist' is pretty lucky to have you around, then," Sam replied playing with his food again. "That red-tape can be some pretty nasty stuff," he added before finally eating more food.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm pretty lucky too. He may be a little looney at times but he's the best friend a man could find." As Al said the last he locked eyes with Sam making sure he understood.

Sam broke eye contact first looking back down to his plate of food.

It wasn't much, Al realized, there was still a lot the two of them needed to talk about before they'd both be ok but at least it was a start. The rest would come in its own good time and hopefully there'd be no more minefields before then.

"There's one thing I can't figure out," Sam said after eating most of what was on his plate.

"What's that?" Al asked reaching over to put more of the chicken on Sam's plate.

Sam scowled slightly at Al but ate what he was given anyway. "How'd Bear end up in bed with me? Last I saw he was in my suitcase."

"I put him there. You just looked so darned cute taking your nap I just couldn't resist. Besides, I think it'll make a great Christmas card," Al said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Sam dropped his fork on the plate. "You didn't. You wouldn't. You did, didn't you?"

"You should have seen the way you snuggled up to it as soon as I put it down next to you. I thought for sure you were going to start sucking your thumb next," Al said with glee.

Sam buried his face in his hands. "Please tell me you're just pulling my leg and there are no pictures."

Al didn't answer, he just smiled and laughed.

"I'll get even with you for this, Calavicci," Sam mock-threatened.

Al laughed outright at Sam's threat happy that the tension from earlier had been relieved. Once the two were done eating he cleared up the remains of their dinner and threw it away. As soon as the table was cleared Sam grabbed for the pile of folders that Al had put on the window sill and started in on them again.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you used the desk?" Al asked.

"I tried that earlier," Sam responded looking up. "It's not that comfortable. I can't really stretch my leg out and it gets cramped."

"Makes sense," Al said.

The two spent the rest of the night in quiet companionship. Al did notice, though, that every time he got up and moved around the room Sam's eyes would follow his every step. When he'd gone down to the lobby to get some coffee he'd returned to the room to find Sam again sitting tensely in the chair staring at the door.

As the night wore on and Sam's energy levels started to flag Al tried to persuade him to turn in for the night. Each time Sam would deny how tired he was. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Al had a feeling Sam's need to stay up stemmed from his fear that while he slept Al would once again disappear.

By 11:00 Sam was more asleep than awake sitting at the table. He'd been staring down at the same sheet of paper for at least 15 minutes without seeming to comprehend anything that was printed on it.

"C'mon, Kid," Al urged resting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Time for you to go to bed and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer this time."

Sam shook himself awake sitting up straighter in the chair. "'M not tired," he mumbled around a yawn.

"Sure you're not." Al agreed helping Sam up from the chair and handing him the crutches and giving him a gentle push in the direction of the bathroom. "Go on and get ready for bed and I'll clean up out here."

Sam opened his mouth and seemed on the verge of disagreeing with Al but instead he snapped it closed and did as he was asked. When he came out of the bathroom he was only wearing his t-shirt and boxer shorts and his socks.

"You want to put something warmer on?" Al asked when Sam sat down wearily on the side of the bed.

Sam stared at him dumbly for a moment before answering. "I don't know."

"Asleep with his eyes open." Al whispered. "Here, take these," he said louder handing Sam several pills. "I'll get you something to wear."

Once Sam was dressed in a warm pair of sweatpants and his worn MIT sweatshirt Al tucked him under the blanket. "I'm just gonna watch some TV and turn in myself," he told Sam before turning off the light.


	89. Chapter 89

Despite how tired Sam was he seemed to be getting little to no sleep. Al had thought he'd drift right off as soon as he was in bed but soon realized how wrong he was. Every movement Al made brought Sam's head up from the pillow to look around the room. Sometimes he'd call out tentatively for Al and other times he'd just look. He wouldn't relax back against the pillow until Al came over to reassure him that he wasn't alone.

Finally after two hours of Sam's increasing insecurity Al realized that unless he did something Sam wouldn't be getting any sleep that night and, by extension, neither would he. "Sam," he softly called crouching by the bed knowing that that younger man was still awake.

"Yeah?" Sam replied softly.

"I'm gonna go out in the hall for a second and get something to drink. I'll make sure the door stays open so you can hear me, ok?"

"Ok," Sam answered although the tremor in his voice was obvious to Al.

"I'll be right back," Al reassured him again before pushing up from the floor and going out into the hall. He made his selection quickly at the vending machine and re-entered the room before Sam could have too much time to worry. It didn't seem to matter how fast he was, though, since when he got back in the room he could see the outline of Sam sitting up in bed staring at the door."

"I'm back," Al reassured Sam quietly sitting down on the edge of the bed. He went through the prescription bottles on the nightstand looking for the one he wanted. Once he'd located the bottle of Halcion he shook one of the violet tablets into this hand. Sam had been prescribed the Halcion in case he had any trouble sleeping. Thus far he hadn't taken any since he'd been released from the hospital and to Al's knowledge had only taken it a couple of times while he'd been in the hospital.

"Here, take this," he said handing the tablet to Sam before uncapping the bottle of water he'd bought.

Sam stared dumbly down at the pill in his hand before shaking his head and trying to hand it back to Al. "I don't need a sleeping pill, Al. I don't like the way they make me feel."

"I know you don't like to take them, Sam," Al said pushing the pill back into Sam's hand. "I don't think you're going to get any sleep tonight, though, if you don't take it." Al took in the mulish look on Sam's face and realized he wouldn't take the pill without a fight. "Look, you need a good night's sleep so you're rested for you therapy session tomorrow," Al told him reasonably. When that still didn't seem to have any effect he decided it was time to play a little dirty pool. Al knew that Sam worried about him just as much as he worried about Sam and bargained on that to get Sam to do what he wanted. "Look, Kid, if you don't get any sleep tonight then I don't get any sleep tonight so how 'bout if you do us both a favor."

Sam weighed Al's words carefully before replying. "Ok, I'll take it this time," he said as his shoulders slumped. He put the pill in his mouth swallowing it with the water from the bottle that Al held out to him.

"Good," Al said once Sam had swallowed the pill. "Why don't you lie down now and let that do its work. I'll bet you'll be asleep before you know it."

Sam wordlessly lay back down in the bed rolling over onto his stomach with his arms coming up to wrap around the pillows. Al got up from the edge of the bed and smoothed the blanket over Sam before starting to walk away.

"Don't go," he heard drift from the bed. It was barely a whisper but to Al it may as well have been a shout.

Tentatively he sat back down on the side of the bed. "I'm right here, Kid," he said reaching out to rub the back of Sam's neck. "I'll sit here with you 'til you fall asleep." He brushed the hair that had fallen forward back out of Sam's face before continuing to soothingly rub his neck and back. It didn't take long before Sam's natural fatigue combined with the sedative properties of the Halcion to send him into a deep sleep.

Once sure that Sam was sleeping deeply and not likely to stir, Al again rose from the side of the bed smoothing the covers into place. He clicked off the TV before checking the locks on the door and going into the bathroom to get ready for bed himself. He stopped to check on Sam one more time. He'd curled over onto his side but other than that was still sleeping deeply. Satisfied that Sam would sleep the night through, Al slipped between the sheets of his own bed. With any luck, he thought, tomorrow could only go better than today had.

Al soon followed Sam into slumber.


	90. Chapter 90

When Al woke the next morning the first thing he did was check on Sam. "At least one of us slept good," he whispered when he saw that Sam was still deeply asleep in nearly the same position he'd been in last night. Dreams had plagued Al in his sleep and he'd never attained a truly deep and restful sleep.

He grabbed up his clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick morning shower. Sam was still sleeping on blissfully when he was done and Al entertained the idea that a parade could come marching through the room right now and it probably wouldn't disturb the sleeping man one iota. Grabbing the notepad off the desk Al quickly scribbled out a note for Sam explaining that he'd gone for a walk. He knew Sam would correctly interpret that as meaning he'd gone out to smoke a cigar. He was just about to leave the note on the table when he remembered the note that had gone missing yesterday and instead tucked the note into Sam's hand where he couldn't miss it if he woke. He was just about to step away from the bed when he heard something crinkle under his foot and bent down to pick it up.

"Damnit," he cursed when he saw the piece of paper. It was the note he'd left for Sam the previous day. Somehow it had fallen off the table landing between the table and the bed. For such a small piece of paper it had done an amazing job of causing so much grief. Al debated what he should do with the note. If he showed it to Sam the kid might think he wrote it this morning to cover his tracks. It might also just open a wound that was better left alone. The note couldn't help anything now but it could cause more hurt. He folded it up and stuffed it into his pocket and made sure the one he'd just written was still in Sam's hand. "I'll be right back," he whispered to the sleeping man before slipping out the door.

Al got back to the room over a ½ hour later. Sam was still sleeping although not as deeply as he had been before. He'd rolled over onto his back and the note that Al had left with him was somehow stuck to his right cheek. Al suppressed a chuckle wishing again that he had a camera. He'd led Sam to believe last night that he'd taken picture of him in bed with the stuffed bear even though he hadn't. It was too much fun to lead the kid on like that. Besides, if he did have a camera he most certainly would have captured the moment.

He peeled the note from Sam's cheek and tossed it onto the table. Since he was back it wouldn't matter if it got lost this time or not. The only response he got from Sam was a slight twitching of his cheek.

As he hung his coat up in the closet he heard more movement coming from the bed as Sam came closer and closer to wakefulness. He went back over to the bed to help Sam finish the cross to being awake.

"Sam," he said jostling his arm. "C'mon. Wakey, wakey time."

"Hmmm?" Sam mumbled twitching his nose and rolling over away from Al.

Al tried shaking his arm again, "C'mon, Sam, time for all good scientists to wake up."

"Leave 'lone," Sam muttered jerking his arm away from Al and attempting to burrow under the blankets. He didn't get far since Al quickly pulled the blankets down to the foot of the bed.

"Sorry, Kiddo, no can do. It's time for you to get up now." He waited a few seconds to see if Sam would wake up but nothing happened. "Now I know why you don't like the sleeping pills," Al said mostly to himself. He grasped both of Sam's shoulders drawing him up into a sitting position. Sam sagged and would have fallen back over if Al hadn't continued to support him. "It's time to wake up now, Sam. You need to eat some breakfast before it's lunch time."

Sam finally blinked his eyes open but he still wasn't quite awake yet. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands and for some reason reminded Al of a cranky 5 year old who'd been woken too soon from his nap. "What time is," he asked letting his hands drop down to rest in his lap.

Al snuck a quick look over to the clock. "It's about 8:30 and I don't know about you but I'm ready for something to eat."

"This is why I hate taking those pills," Sam said trying to stifle a yawn.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time," Al told him rising from the bed. "You think you can manage to get up and get yourself dressed on your own or do you need some help?"

Sam pushed the blanket away and swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself to his feet using the crutches. "I think I can manage." He wobbled slightly on his way to the bathroom and Al was sorely tempted to follow him.

By the time Sam finished his shower and emerged from the bathroom fully clothed he appeared to be somewhat more awake although he still kept yawning. "C'mon, let's go downstairs and get something to eat."

"You sure?" Al asked. We can just get room service.

"No," Sam said shaking his head and heading for the door. "That'll end up taking longer and besides, I think I might fall asleep again if we sit here waiting for it."

It wasn't until noon time that the sleeping pill finally completely wore off of Sam. Luckily his therapy appointment wasn't until the afternoon so he suffered no ill effects at it because of taking the pill the night before.

Jo was pleased with the progress Sam was making. She'd worked more on going up and down stairs with Sam and although it wasn't overly comfortable for him to do it he was able to. His hip was still giving him the greatest amount of trouble. The muscles were still overly stiff and it affected his gait when he walked. He was able to put more weight on his injured leg but the limp was still very pronounced. Again she reminded him that it would take time before he reached 100 but that if his progression continued in the fashion that it had it wouldn't be too much longer before he'd be able to trade the crutches in for a cane. That news had spurred Sam to push himself further during the sessions.

The result was that by the time Al drove him back to the hotel after his therapy he was once more sore and in pain and ready for his afternoon nap. He dropped immediately onto the bed once they were in the room but when Al offered him one of the pain pills he waved it off opting for Tylenol instead.

"It's not really that painful, Al," he explained when Al had frowned at him for not taking the stronger pain pill. "It's just more sore than painful. The Tylenol will do the trick…well, that and a nap."

Al hadn't pushed the argument over the pain pill. He still felt like he was walking a minefield with Sam and didn't want to take a chance of setting off any of the mines. Nothing had been said about what had happened the previous day. It was almost as if they'd both come to an agreement that if they didn't talk about it, it didn't happen.

Sam only slept for short time, forty-five minutes at most, and Al suspected it was due to the fact that he hadn't taken the painkiller. When he woke up he was excited about something Al couldn't guess at. The first thing he did was to hobble over to the table and grab the blank notebook and start scribbling down a complex series of equations. Al briefly looked over Sam's shoulder but what he saw on the papers spread out didn't make much sense to him. He'd have to wait until Sam figured out whatever it was he was working on and explained it to him.

Sam was still going at it a few hours later when dinner time came around and it didn't look like he'd be stopping his frantic scribbling anytime soon. At least he wouldn't without a lot of prompting.

"You ready to get some dinner?" Al asked switching off the TV he'd been watching.

"Hmmm….yeah….sure," Sam answered distracted. He made no move to stop what he was doing or to get up and Al knew that Sam had no idea what he'd just said. He'd just been responding to hearing a voice asking a question.

"Sa-am," Al called out. "You in there?" Al waited a beat but got no response. "Yo, Sammy, you in there?" he asked again.

"Uh, huh." Again Sam didn't stop what he was doing or look up. Al had seen him like this before. He was off in his own world and was likely to stay there unless pulled kicking and screaming from it.

"Let the screaming commence," Al said under his breath before going over to the table and pulling the pencil from out of Sam's grasp.

When the pencil disappeared from his hand Sam looked all around the table for a moment not understanding where the writing implement had disappeared to. "Hey," he finally said looking up in Al's direction. "What are you doing?"

"What I'm doing," Al explained moving in to scoop up the mess of papers spread out on the table, "is getting your attention."

"Stop that," Sam said trying to rescue his papers from Al's hands. "You're making a mess of it."

"So, you'll fix the mess later. If I know you the way I think I do, you'll put every sheet of paper back exactly where it was so stop complaining. C'mon, let's go get some dinner."

Sam watched helpless from his seat as Al deposited the pile of papers and the pencil on top of the desk on the other side of the room.

"I'm working," he complained, "and it's too early for dinner."

"Too early?" Al asked with a laugh. "What time do you think it is?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh…"

"Just what I thought," Al quickly cut in before Sam could form a full reply. "You've got no clue. How long do you think you were sitting there working?"

"No more than a ½ hour," Sam answered confidently.

Again Al laughed at him. "Typical. Once you get going you lose track of time. You've been sitting there for a little over two hours. It's 6:30, Kiddo and it's dinner time."

Sam looked over to the clock between the beds and saw that, indeed, Al was right about the time. "When'd that happen?" he asked dumbly.

"Typical Sam," Al grumbled under his breath as he grabbed his coat and Sam's out of the closet. "Here," he said throwing Sam's coat at him. "Put on your coat. We're going out for dinner."

"Out?" Sam asked.

"Geez, I think I have an echo. Yes, Sam out. As in past the doors…a place other than the hotel. You know, a place exterior to where we are now."

"I know what out means, Al" Sam said mildly annoyed while pulling on his coat. "I'm just wondering why we have to go out. Why can't we just stay here and get room service? That way I can keep working."

"That's exactly why we're going out Sam." Al waited patiently by the door while Sam grabbed his crutches and pulled himself from the chair. "If we go out you'll pull your nose out of whatever it is you're doing and actually eat your food instead of just inhaling it. Besides, I'm in the mood for Mexican and there's this great little place I stopped in at a couple of times that I really enjoyed. It's not too long of a walk and Jo did say you should start doing more walking so let's go."

"Mexican?" Sam questioned as he walked through the door Al was holding open. "You sure that's such a good idea?"

"They have a pretty mild chicken and rice dish. Get that and you won't risk the pukies again."

"Gee, Al, you have such a way of putting things," Sam tossed over his shoulder before getting in the waiting elevator.

They were greeted by a gust of cold wind when they walked out of the lobby door of the hotel.

"Geez, it's really cooled off since this afternoon," Al commented before fully buttoning up his coat and flipping up the collar.

Standing next to him Sam was trying to support and balance on the crutches while also trying to do up the buttons on his coat as well. "It's still March, Al, what do you expect?"

Seeing the difficulty Sam was having Al reached over to do up the buttons for him.

Sam blew out an exasperated breath, "Could you make me feel anymore like a kid? I could have done it myself."

"Sorry, Sam. I know you could have done it yourself but by then we both might have been popsicles. Even worse, by the time you got done Tami might have already left." Al took off up the street heading for the restaurant.

"Tami?" Sam questioned from behind.

"Yeah, Tami," Al answered over his shoulder before slowing down to let Sam catch up with him. Once they were side by side he continued his explanation. "She's this waitress at Hacienda, that's the name of the restaurant, and she's got the greatest set of…"

"Al," Sam chastised. "We're on a public street for crying out loud."

"What?" Al asked as innocently as he could. "I was just going to say she had the greatest set of castanets. What'd you think I was going to say?" Al tried to look as innocent and hurt as he possibly could.

"I know exactly what you were going to say and it had nothing to do with castanets." It was a song and dance routine they'd gotten much practice at and they both fell into their roles with ease.

"So, what are you trying to say? You trying to say I'm predictable?"

"When it comes to some things," Sam answered, "You're as predictable as they come?"

"Yeah, well I wouldn't talk if I were you, Kid. You're even more predictable."

"No I'm not," Sam countered.

"Sure you are," Al easily counter-argued. "As soon as I brought up Tami I knew exactly how you'd react. You didn't disappoint me either, Kid."

Sam stopped short where he was, "You knew?"

Realizing that Sam wasn't walking with him Al stopped and retraced his steps until he was in front of Sam. "Of course I knew, Kid. If you didn't get all choirboy on me I'd be really surprised. I just have never figured out how you do it?" He started to walk up the street again glancing back to make sure Sam was coming as well.

"Do what," Sam questioned confused.

"You know," Al responded. He was baiting Sam but he was enjoying the playful banter too much.

"No, I don't know. Al. Aa-ll."

"That. I can't figure out how you do that," Al said pointing a finger in Sam's face. This time he was the one to stop their progress up the street.

"Do what?" Sam asked. Al had to bite back the chuckle when he heard the whine creeping into Sam's voice.

"Say my name like that." The only response he got from Sam was that he crinkled his brow in confusion and shrugged the best he could with the crutches. "It's only got two letters in it – A and L - but you've got this way of saying my name when you're frustrated and it sounds like it's got about 20 letters in it."

"That bugs you?" Sam asked.

"No, it doesn't bug me. To be honest it amuses the hell out of me," he said with a laugh before once again continuing up the street.

"You're just trying to drive me crazy, that's all." Sam said the words just low enough for Al to hear before hurrying again to catch up with him.

They'd reached the restaurant which, much to Sam's dismay, had two steps down going into it. Despite the work he'd done at his last two therapy sessions he was still having more trouble going up the stairs than down them.

"Don't worry," Al told him seeing the look on his face. "I'll make sure you don't fall."

It wasn't the most graceful Al had ever seen Sam move but he made it down the two steps without any incident. Thankfully going up them would be easier. He held open the door to the restaurant and let Sam pass through it first.

Once they were seated and their orders had been taken their conversation continued.

"I've been thinking," Al began.

"Gee, I knew I smelled smoke," Sam replied with a smirk without missing a beat.

"Ha, ha. Maybe I'll start calling you Shecky. Seriously,"

"You serious, now there's a change," Sam quickly shot back without losing the smirk.

"Sa-am," Al said warningly.

"Ah, ha," Sam exclaimed leaning across the table. "You do it too."

"Do what?" Al asked confused.

"You do the same thing with my name…you know, add some extra syllables."

"I do not," Al quickly shot back

"Do to."

"Do not"

"Yes you do," Sam said in a sing-song voice.

"Sa-am," Al warned.

"I rest my case," Sam smugly said crossing his arms over his chest.

Al rested his elbow on the edge of the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had started out that he'd been the one doing the teasing but somehow Sam had managed to turn the tables around on him. "Ok," he admitted, "I do it too. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. So what were you thinking about?" Sam asked leading the conversation back to Al's original track.

"What I was thinking," Al began again pointedly ignored Sam's raised eyebrows, "Is that you should try to get in touch with Lydia now that you're out of the hospital."

"Why?" Sam asked reaching for the glass of soda that had put down in front of him.

Al inwardly smiled at Sam's honest question. Now he'd be able to turn things back around and put Sam in the hot seat. The kid was always so easy to tease and Al never passed up any opportunity he was presented – and went looking for them when there didn't appear to be any. They hadn't had much of a chance to engage in the good-natured banter since the accident and seeing Sam so relaxed and happy just spurred Al on.

"Because, you dope, she seemed quite taken with you."

"With me?" Sam asked surprised. Al struggled to hide his grin when Sam's voice seemed to go up an octave.

"Yeah, you? Didn't you notice the way she took extra special care of you?"

"C'mon, Al, I was her patient. She's supposed to take care of me."

"Uh huh." Al said not quite believing Sam.

Tami came over then setting plates down in front of Sam and Al.

"Thank you," Sam politely said.

"Yeah," Al said appreciatively as Tami bent in front of him to put his plate down giving him an ample view of her…castanets. "Thank you very much."

Tami giggled at Al's appreciative stare. "If you need anything else, just give me a holler."

"Oh, I will," Al eagerly assured her. "I sure will."

Tami let out another giggle before walking away from the table. Al continued to stare after her.

Sam shook his head and dug into his food. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're too uptight," Al said turning back to Sam. "You got to learn to live a little and appreciate things more than every couple of years."

Sam started to turn a bright shade of red knowing exactly what Al was talking about. "I appreciate things just fine on my own. I don't need your help."

"Don't you think it would be more fun to appreciate those things with someone else, Sam?" Al asked innocently.

"Please drop it," Sam nearly begged.

Al chuckled at Sam's discomfort enjoying it and wanting to prolong it. "You know, after you're therapy session tomorrow we could take a walk up to the 6th floor so you can see how Lydia's doing. You're not her patient anymore, Sam so maybe the two of you could…" he was going to say 'play doctor' but when he saw how red Sam's face was he quickly amended himself, "go out to dinner or something."

Sam seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when Al finished his suggestion with something harmless. "What would be the point?" he asked putting another forkful of rice in his mouth. "We're gonna be leaving in a few days anyway."

"So? You go out with her and have a night of fun. What's the harm in that?" Al asked.

"I know what your definition of fun is, Al, and aside from the fact that I don't think that's something I'm physically up to yet I wouldn't take advantage of her – or anyone else – just for some fun. That's something you should do because you love someone."

Sam's face was so earnest as he said the last Al had to again make an effort not to hold in his chuckle. He settled for hiding his smile behind his napkin. "And you wonder why I call you Mr. Morals."

Whatever retort Sam was going to make was quickly bit off when his face screwed up in pain and he dropped his fork and instead grabbed his thigh.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Al asked urgently.

"Muscle cramp," Sam gasped out.

Al came around to Sam's side of the table and squatted next to him. He brushed Sam's hand away and briskly started kneading the muscle he could feel was rock hard. "Breathe, Sam," Al advised when he noticed Sam holding his breath. "You gotta breathe through it."

When he saw the hostess coming over to see what was wrong Al quickly waved her off. Sam would be embarrassed enough by the diners who were looking in their direction. If someone came over it would be even worse. After a few minutes the cramp finally relaxed. "Better?" Al asked him pushing to his feet.

Sam furtively looked around feeling the eyes of others on him. "Yeah, it's ok now," he quietly told Al. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Al asked him sitting back down.

"I don't know. Seems like we can't even eat a simple meal without something happening." Sam picked up his fork and started toying with his food again. "I just wish everything could go back to normal again."

"It will, Sam, you just have to…."

"Give it time." Sam finished dropping his fork down to his plate. "I'm tired of giving it time and tired of everyone telling me I have to. It's not fair. What did I do to deserve this? Why am I the one who has to suffer and the idiot who hit me gets off scott-free? Why am I the one who gets punished? It isn't fair," he lamely said again before slouching down in his chair.

Al toyed with his food for a couple of moments trying to figure out what to say in response to Sam's outburst. It was the first time the younger man had ever voiced the unfairness of the situation. On the one hand, Al didn't think it would do Sam any good to quell his outburst. He had every right to it. On the other hand he knew he'd only feel that much more embarrassed as soon as he noticed the attention he was drawing.

Al finally put his fork down on the plate and hesitantly started to frame an answer – one he could only hope would be the right one. "I know it's not fair and you have every right to be upset. Hell, I'm surprised you haven't gotten angry like this before now."

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming," Sam asked sullenly.

"No 'buts', Kid. I'm just trying to head off the pity party you seem to be heading for. Be angry, you should be. That son of a bitch is still out there. Just be angry smart. And besides, I just thought maybe you might not want to lose your temper here, that's all." Al picked up his fork and started shoveling food in again giving Sam time to think about what he'd said. It would do the Kid no use to start feeling sorry for himself. He'd been making remarkable strides and the last thing Al wanted was to see that come to a crashing halt.

"I guess you're right," Sam finally said picking up his fork and playing with his food again. He poked at his food a bit more before finally putting some in his mouth. "This is good," he softly said.

"Told ya and the scenery ain't half bad either," Al shot back indicating Tami across the room with a tip of his head.

Sam shook his head slightly with a small sigh and a half smile and Al dug back into his food satisfied that he'd managed to derail Sam's dark mood.


	91. Chapter 91

The first thing Sam did when they got back into the hotel room was to make a bee-line for the pile of papers on the desk. Al watched from the door for a few seconds amused while Sam tried to figure out a way to carry them over to the table and use his crutches at the same time. Finally he came over grabbing the pile of papers from Sam.

"Why don't you take off your coat first before you start back in on this," Al said gesturing with the papers. "Even better, take off your coat and get changed so you can do your therapy exercises and then you can bury yourself in these. You start on whatever you were doing earlier first thing and you'll forget about everything else."

Sam took a moment to mull over Al's suggestion. Although he did want to get right back to the work he was doing earlier, he also knew that he had to do another round of the therapy exercises and if he got too wrapped up in his work he wouldn't want to take a break. His getting back to 100 and back to the project full force depended on him doing the therapy regularly. "Ok, Al, therapy first, work second," he agreed.

While Al took a change of clothes into the bathroom for him, Sam sat down on the end of the bed so he could more easily take off his coat. He was just getting ready to toss it on the bed behind him when Al came back out and grabbed it from him.

"Here, give me that so I can hang it up. Geesh, Kid, you really do just leave bits of yourself everywhere."

Sam tried his best to restrain a grin. He'd accepted a long time ago that one of the major differences between him and Al that would probably never be resolved was the whole neatness thing. Sam didn't consider himself a slob by any stretch of the imagination; he was just more willing to let something stay out place until it got in the way. Al, on the other hand, was a great defender of the "place for everything and everything in its place" way of life. Sam always figured it was partially from growing up in an orphanage and a whole lot to do with the Navy. In the end, though, there was no mistaking that when it came to neatness the two of them were like oil and water.

"I would have put it away eventually," Sam defended himself.

"Yeah, I know your 'put it away'," Al said closing the closet door. "You would have tossed it on a chair until tomorrow morning then you would have tossed it back on your bed when you wanted to use the chair. If you put your stuff away as soon as you're done with it it'll stay a lot neater and you'll know where stuff is."

"Yes, Mom," Sam answered with a smirk.

"Don't you 'yes mom' me," Al said returning the smile. "Get your butt into gear and go get changed."

"Yes, Sir," Sam replied throwing a jaunty salute in Al's direction before pulling himself up from the bed and heading in the direction of the bathroom. "I hear and obey."

"Smart ass," he heard Al grumble as he shut the door behind him.

When Sam re-emerged from the bathroom in a pair of running pants and his beat up MIT sweatshirt he saw that Al had cleared off the top of the dresser.

"Take a seat," Al said indicating the cleared area.

Some of the exercises that Sam had to do had to be done sitting with his feet above the floor. The beds and chairs were to low to the floor but the dresser, which came up to hip height on Sam, was just the right height as well as sturdy enough to support his weight.

Al put him through all of the exercise like an experienced drill sergeant. By the end Sam was contemplating begging for mercy.

"You're just doing this to get me so tired I won't want to do any work," he said rising to a sitting position on the bed. After they'd gone through the first series of exercises with him sitting on the dresser the rest had been done lying in bed. After all the hip abductor exercises, there was now a dull throb in Sam's hip and the top of his leg but he wasn't about to give in to it.

"Oh yeah, Sam, that's my plan," Al jokingly agreed while putting away the weights and bands Sam had been using. "I want nothing better than to get you so sore and tired you can't move." As he came back over to the bed he handed Sam two tablets and a bottle of water. "Here take these, it's just Tylenol but I'm betting you're pretty sore right about now."

"Yeah, kinda," Sam agreed grabbing the Tylenol from Al. "Can you grab that stuff for me so I can get back to work," he asked once he'd swallowed them.

Al dutifully brought the pile of papers over to the table and Sam once again ensconced himself in his work. This is what he'd missed these last couple of weeks – the joy of losing himself in his work and watching the numbers and equations take on a life of their own in front of him. He soon became so engrossed with what he was doing that he lost all track of what was going on around him. He was vaguely aware of Al moving around the room and even seemed to think he heard him say he was going out to get something to drink. Sam waved at Al to acknowledge that he'd heard him although for life of him he couldn't have repeated back what Al had said.

It seemed he'd no sooner sat down and really gotten into what he was doing before his eyelids started to droop heavily. "Damn," he thought, "I'm never going to get anything done if I keep falling asleep." He fought through the drowsy feeling and pressed on but suddenly the numbers in front of him didn't seem to be making the nice ordered sense they'd been making before and once again the pencil seemed to disappear from his hand and the papers from in front of him.

"You listening to me?" he heard Al asking him.

"Yeah, I am," Sam answered irritably. "Give me that stuff back."

Al didn't return the missing pencil and papers which he'd once again deposited on the desk across the room. Instead he stood in front of Sam with his arms crossed over his chest. "Oh, what'd I just say?" he challenged.

"You…uh…you said…uh," Sam realized he didn't know a single thing that Al had said to him and he'd have to admit it. "I guess I wasn't listening," he said with a tiny shrug.

"No kiddin'. I said it's time for you to stop for the night and sleep in bed where you'll be comfortable instead of sitting there forcing your eyes to stay open." Al reached down to grab Sam's arm and draw him up from the chair.

"I'm not tired," Sam complained pulling his arm from Al's grasp. "Besides, it's too early to go to bed now. Give me back that stuff so I can get back to where I was."

"Kid, in case you're missed it, it's quarter to one already. You should have been in bed a long time ago and as far as the 'work' you were doing," Al said holding up the top sheet of paper for Sam to see, "unless smiley faces have something to do with string theory, I think you're done with work for the night."

"Oh," Sam said in a small embarrassed voice. He hadn't even been aware that he'd started doodling. "Was I keeping you awake?" he asked concerned that Al had only stayed up to make sure he got to bed.

"No, you haven't kept me awake, Sam but if we're gonna stand here and have a debate all night then you will. Now c'mon, upsy daisy." Al once again grabbed Sam's upper arm and pulled him upright from the chair. Instead of handing Sam the crutches he supported him back over to the bed.

"You need anything for pain or anything?" Al asked as soon as Sam was seated on the side of the bed.

"Uh, no, I think I'm fine," Sam answered muzzily. He lay back in the bed and rolled over onto his stomach, his arms coming up to cradle the pillow. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

------------------------------

When he woke again it was still pitch black in the room and Al was snoring up a storm in the next bed. It took him a few moments to figure out what it was that had woken him up and then it hit him. The dull throb he'd been feeling in his hip and leg earlier had turned into a fiery ache. Carefully he rolled over onto his back stretching his leg out hoping that would relieve the pain. A quick glance at the clock between the beds showed 3:23 glowing softy red. He lay quietly staring over at the clock willing the pain to ease off. After 10 minutes it was still as bad as when he'd woken up and he knew it would never lessen unless he gave in and took something for it.

Reaching over to the nightstand he tried to find the bottle of painkillers in the dark simply by feeling for them. Unfortunately all of the bottles on the table felt the same. The only way he was going to figure out which was which was to turn on a light or continue to just tough it out. Not wanting to disturb Al from his much deserved rest Sam decided to tough it out.

After another 10 minutes he realized that he wasn't going to be able to last much longer without taking something for the pain. "I'm sorry, Al," he softly said before switching on the light over his bed.

As soon as the light came on Al was awake with a start. "What? What's wrong? Sam, you ok?" he asked worried.

"Sorry, Al, I didn't want to wake you I just couldn't find the bottle of painkillers in the dark and my leg is killing me," Sam answered while looking for the bottle. Locating it he pulled the cap off and shook one of the tablets out prepared to swallow it dry.

"Here," Al said handing him the bottle of water from earlier. Sam hadn't noticed him get out of his bed and grab the bottle off the desk.

"Thanks," Sam said swallowing some of the water and the pill. He handed the bottle back to Al once he was done and Al capped it and put it down on the table.

Sam carefully lay back down being cautious not to jar his aching leg.

"You want me to sit up with you until that starts to work?" Al asked standing over Sam's bed.

"No," Sam answered quietly. "Go on back to bed, Al. I'll be ok. Really," he reassured when the older man looked doubtful.

Al finally gave a short nod and got back into his bed. Sam waited until he was under the covers before reaching up to turn off the light. The room was plunged into darkness once again as well as silence. In no time it seemed the silence was broken by the snores once again coming from Al's bed. It was a testament to how tired the older man must be, Sam realized, if he was able to fall right back to sleep instead of sitting worrying over Sam.

It took Sam considerably longer before he was able to fall back to sleep. By the time the painkiller had done it's job eradicating the pain in his leg as well as making him feel sleepy again over an hour had passed. The last time he saw on the clock before his eyes finally drifted closed was 4:46.


	92. Chapter 92

When Al woke up the next morning he saw that Sam was still deeply asleep. Knowing how late he'd gone to bed and that he hadn't had a very good night because of pain Al made no move to wake him up. He showered and changed and called down for room service to deliver breakfast to the room and Sam still showed no signs of waking. If it weren't for the soft snores, Al would have worried that something happened to Sam in his sleep.

He pulled the curtain back from the window enough so there was soft light at the table. Sam was sleeping with his back to the window and his face was nearly buried in the blanket so Al didn't think the light would have any affect on him.

Al had finished his breakfast and read through nearly all of the Post before he heard any life from the bed. He waited until Sam crossed completely to the waking world and pushed himself upright before saying anything to him.

"Didn't think you were ever gonna wake up," he said folding the paper closed.

"What time is it?" Sam asked knuckling the sleep out of his eyes before dropping his hands to rest loosely in his lap.

"It's almost 9:00," Al answered. "Geez, did you have a fight with the pillow and lose?"

"Huh?" Sam asked dumbly.

"That's quite an interesting look you've got going there," Al said indicating Sam's sleep tousled hair that stuck out at odd directions.

"I sort of had a restless night," Sam defended running his fingers self-consciously through his hair trying to tame it.

"Gee, I wouldn't have guessed." Al picked up the plate of toast still sitting on the table and held it out in Sam's direction, "I went ahead and got breakfast without you when it didn't seem like you'd be waking up anytime soon. Want some toast?

Sam looked over at the plate of toast and wrinkled his nose at the somewhat congealed look of the butter on it. "How long has it been sitting there?" he asked.

"'Bout an hour," Al responded putting the plate down when it didn't look like Sam was going to take it. "I could call room service and have them bring something up for you while you get ready."

"Ready?" Sam questioned as he again rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Am I going somewhere I don't know about?"

"Well, you do have a therapy appointment this afternoon," Al explained. "I thought you knew about that."

"Oh, that. Yeah, I know about that. I just thought you meant I had to get ready for something now." Sam looked like at any moment he was going to lie back down in the bed and go back to sleep.

"No, you don't have anything now although at the pace you're going you might not actually get out of bed and get dressed until it is time for your appointment. And I thought you were moving in slow motion yesterday morning from the sleeping pill." Al got up and started pulling clothes out of the dresser. "I'm just gonna leave these in the bathroom for you for whenever you do feel like getting up and getting dressed."

When he came out of the bathroom Sam was still sitting in the same position in bed. "Whether you're getting out of bed right now or not you still need something for breakfast," Al said. "What do you want and I'll call room service."

"I'm not really that hungry," Sam said stifling a yawn.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," Al told him his hand on the phone. "I said you needed to eat something and you do. Now either you tell me what you want or I'll pick for you."

"Fine, Al, whatever," Sam said defeated swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you anymore than I am hungry. If you're gonna insist I eat I will just don't get a lot. Tea and toast is fine." Sam grabbed the crutches and started to slowly walk towards the bathroom.

Al watched Sam disappear into the bathroom and pull the door closed behind him. "I swear he has more mood swings than some of my wives ever did," Al said softly enough so that Sam couldn't hear him. "It's like he goes to sleep and someone comes in and gives him a personality adjustment." Sighing and shaking his head Al put the phone to his ear and dialed the number for room service and ordered breakfast for Sam.

When room service came with the order Sam was just emerging from the bathroom and he seemed to be more awakes than he had been when he'd gone in.

"What's all this?" he asked sitting down at the table where his breakfast had been left.

"It's your breakfast," Al answered.

"I can see that," Sam said picking up a fork to poke at the eggs. "Why's there so much? I said I just toast and tea."

"You need more to eat than that. You're supposed to be gaining back the weight you lost, not losing more. Now c'mon, eat up."

Sam looked up at Al resigned before scooping up some of the scrambled eggs and putting them into his mouth.

Seeing that Sam had started to eat his breakfast Al sat opposite him at the table and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee from the carafe and sipped at it while he watched Sam eat.

"You gonna keep staring at me?" Sam asked around a bite of toast.

Al shook himself and put his mug down on the table. "Sorry, didn't even realize I was doing that. So, you wanna do anything before your appointment today or are you gonna go back to your mad scientist routine?"

Sam reached for the cup of tea and took a swallow before answering. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just stay here until it's time for the appointment. I'm still feeling pretty beat. Maybe after the appointment we can go somewhere."

Al took a long look at Sam. "You sure you're just tired, Kid. You're looking a little green around the gills there."

Sam sighed and pushed the plate of eggs away from him. He hadn't eaten more than a few bites of them and only one piece of the toast. "I'm ok. I'm just not hungry – my stomach feels kinda off, that's all."

At the admission from Sam that he wasn't feeling up to par Al immediately became worried and reached for him across the table checking for fever.

"Would you give it a rest," Sam groused batting Al's hand away. "Just 'cause I don't feel like eating or doing anything doesn't mean I'm sick again. You're getting paranoid I think."

"I'm not paranoid, Sam, just cautions. Dr. Gleason said you'd be a lot more susceptible to just about everything without a spleen. I 'm just being careful is all."

Sam made sure the plate with his breakfast was moved out of his way in the center of the table before crossing his arms on the edge of the table and leaning on them. "Ok, Al, on one level that is true. Chances are I'll catch a cold a lot quicker than you do but that doesn't mean that I'm going to constantly be sick. There's lots of people who have had to have their spleen removed and they live perfectly normal lives without getting much sicker much more often than everyone else. You don't have to go flying off the handle every time I sneeze or just because I'm not hungry. It doesn't mean I'm sick and it doesn't mean that I'm coming down with something. It just means I had to sneeze or I'm just not hungry."

Al held up his hands in defeat. "Ok, Sam, sorry. I guess it seemed like while you were in the hospital that everything that could wrong did that I'm still waiting for that to happen. If you're sure you're not sick I'll let it go."

Sam leaned back in his chair. "I'm touched that you're concerned, Al, I really am. Trust me, though, I'm not sick or getting sick. I'm just having an off day. It happens to everyone. My stomach is feeling a little sensitive right now but that' probably just from the Percocet. Nausea is a side effect and it'll pass. That's why I didn't want much for breakfast.

Al latched on to Sam's admission that he was feeling nauseated. "Maybe we should at least call Doctor Gleason anyway and make sure you're not coming down with that stomach flu again," Al suggested. "You know, just get the doctor's input and make sure you're really all right."

"Gee all this time I thought the MD after my name stood for Medical **Doctor** and not merely delusional," Sam dryly responded. "Al, I'm telling you, this is nothing and it'll pass before you know it if you just give it a chance. Trust me, would you?"

"I do trust you, Sam. I just don't think we should be taking any chances."

"We're not taking any chances, Al, but I swear if you keep up like this all morning you're going to drive me absolutely nuts. You've got to stop hovering and expecting the worse." Sam leaned back in his chair in silent thought. "Want to do me a favor," he finally asked.

"Sure, what do you need?" Al asked eagerly.

"Oh, nothing much. Can you just get me the work I was doing last night and then go outside and take a walk or something?"

Al paused halfway out his chair. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" he questioned before getting fully out of the chair and piling the remains of Sam's breakfast back on the tray.

Sam opened his mouth and started to answer and then snapped it shut again before again attempting to answer, "Yeah, I guess I am. I think you need to go outside or something and clear your head and stop worrying and I need a little time without you hovering."

"Fine," Al said grabbing the pile of papers and folders off of the desk and putting them on the table in front of Sam. "I'll go out for a little while and give you some space." He grabbed the tray with the remains of Sam's breakfast on it to leave outside the door for room service to pick up.

"Al," Sam said as Al pulled on his coat to leave.

"Yeah, Kid?"

Sam drew a breath to speak but quickly seemed to change is his mind. "Nothing he answered," waving off whatever he was going to say. "It's nothing."

Al looked at Sam for a moment hoping he'd say whatever he'd been intending to say but when nothing seemed to be forthcoming his pulled the door open. "I'll be back in about a ½ hour," he said. "You sure you're gonna be all right."

"I'll be fine," Sam assured. "Go outside smoke a cigar, take a walk, and just stop worrying."

"Ok," Al said, though he was uneasy, before disappearing out the door.

When Al came back he expected to find Sam still at the table plugging away at whatever he'd been doing yesterday so he was surprised when he opened the door and instead Sam was back in bed, albeit on top of the covers, watching the TV. This time when Al put his hand on his forehead to check for a fever, he held still and let him.

"Well, you don't feel warm," Al remarked putting his hand down.

"I told you, I'm not sick, Al," Sam patiently repeated. "I'm just having an off-day, ok. Everyone's entitled to having off days every now and then."

"Everyone has off-days, Sam, I'm just not used to seeing you have one."

"Well, I figure I'm about due for one, then. Did you have a good walk?"

Al shrugged off Sam's question, "It was fine. Feels like spring is finally in the air out there."

"That's good," Sam said. "Seemed like it was never going to get here."

The two men lapsed into silence for the rest of the morning. Sam stayed where he was on the bed watching TV although he seemed to slouch further and further down. More than once Al caught him fighting to keep his eyes open and each time he was ready to tell him to stop fighting and go to sleep Sam would shake himself awake and push himself up straighter.

When lunch time came Al again called down for room service. It settled his mind somewhat that Sam did better with lunch managing to eat almost the entire sandwich he'd gotten as well as some soup. He'd need the energy for his therapy session.

When it came time for Sam's therapy Al quietly sat out of the way in the room and watched impressed as Sam seemed to push aside feeling less than par and pushed himself through all that Jo asked of him and was still willing to do more.

She also seemed impressed at how much Sam pushed himself. When Al and Sam had arrived she'd noticed that Sam was much more subdued and listless than he usually was and she'd taken Al aside to ask him if anything was wrong. Al hadn't been able to tell her much besides the fact that Sam had been that way all morning and reiterated Sam's claim of having an off-day. Jo seemed satisfied with Al's explanation.

She ended up having to hold Sam back when it looked like he was going to over extend himself. "Hang on there, Tiger," she said pushing Sam to sit down when he stumbled going up the practice stairs again. "Why don't you take a breather before you hurt yourself."

"I'm ok," Sam tried to reassure trying to brush her out of the way so he could tackle the stairs again.

"Sure you are, that's why you almost took a header, there. You just sit tight for a few minutes and catch your breath right now."

She'd only been able to keep Sam resting for about 5 minutes before he was right back at it pushing himself to his limits and beyond.

Despite the fact that Al was feeling proud of the way Sam was fighting to regain his full mobility he was concerned about how much he was pushing himself today. If it had been yesterday it probably wouldn't have raised any concerns but after the listless morning that Sam had had Al was worried he was pushing himself too far this afternoon. It took great restraint on his part to continue to sit quietly out of the way and not intercede and make Sam sit down.

Finally the hour was up. "You're doing good, Sam" Jo said sitting down and making notes in Sam's chart. "We'll see what kind of weight you can put on that leg on Monday and how you're walking and we might switch you over to a cane instead of the crutches. You still need to work on gaining more flexibility and strength in your hip, though. Run through all of the hip abductor exercises once tonight and then do them at least two times, morning and night over the weekend. Those are the ones I really want you to be concentrating on." She closed the folder and looked over to Al. "Al, in addition to the exercises I want Sam working on I'd like it if you could do the passive one's with him that we were doing the first couple of days. I want to get those muscles stretched out and right now Sam doesn't have the strength to do it on his own." She switched her attention back to Sam. "I know it's going to be sore and painful to pull out those muscles further than they want to go right now so you make sure you take your pain meds when you have to. Don't try to be a martyr because it's going to make it that much harder and it'll take that much longer for full recovery. Am I making myself clear?" She fixed Sam with a hard stare and he squirmed under it just a bit.

"Yes, Ma'am," he finally meekly agreed. "I understand."

"Good. Now do either of you have any questions."

When both Sam and Al indicated that they didn't Jo bid them goodbye with instruction to make an appointment for Monday with the receptionist on the way out. Al had Sam sit down in the reception area while he scheduled the appointment. Sam also had appointments on Monday with Dr. Gleason and Dr. Childs so he wanted to make sure there was enough time for everything.

He was surprised that Sam had readily agreed to sitting and letting Al take care of setting up the appointments. When he was done and came over with Sam's coat, though, he wasn't surprised to see him dozing off in the chair.

"Time to go," Al said jiggling Sam's knee.

"Hmm…oh yeah, ok," Sam said taking his coat from Al and slipping into it.

As they left the medical building headed to the car Sam surprised Al yet again when he asked, "Want to go to a movie or something?"

"You want to go out to a movie?" Al asked unlocking the passenger door and opening it for Sam to get in. "You were almost asleep in there."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I just don't feel like going back to the hotel right now."

Al pushed the car door closed and circled around to the driver's side and got in. "Ok, let's say we do go to the movies, where and what?"

Sam shrugged an answer. "I don't know. I guess I didn't think that far ahead."

"Hang on, then," Al said getting out of the car. Noticing a newspaper box near the entrance of the building he went over and got another copy of the Post from it.

"Here," he said handing it over to Sam. "See if you can find something that'll interest both of us."

They ended up agreeing on a showing of a couple of the Hope/Crosby "Road Movies" that were playing at a small cinema in Arlington. The first of the two movies wasn't even half over when Al heard the deep even breathing coming from beside him followed by a weight on his shoulder as Sam listed over sound asleep.

"Nothing like paying for a nap," Al whispered as he reached over to rescue the popcorn from Sam's relaxed grip.

Sam had ended up sleeping right up until the end credits for the second movie started to roll. "What'd I miss?" he asked rubbing sleep from his face.

"What didn't you miss might be the better question," Al said handing Sam's coat over to him. "C'mon, let's grab some dinner and head back to the hotel. If you're going to crash again let's make it somewhere comfortable."

They waited until the lights in the theater came back up and the few people who where there had left before making their way to the doors as well.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," Sam said as they walked out of the theater.

Al clapped Sam on the back. "You're like clockwork, Kid. Every day after you go to your therapy appointment you take an afternoon nap and recharge. Why should today be any different?"

"Because I'd like to get through a day without having to nap like I'm still 5 years old," Sam replied heatedly. "I'm sorry," he said realizing he was taking his frustration out on Al. "It's not your fault that I still get tired so easily."

"Well, you didn't get a good night's sleep last night either so I'm sure that's got you a little off your game. Besides, you may not think it but I can see you're getting stronger every day. As much as you pushed yourself with Jo today it's no wonder you fell asleep," Al said trying to derail Sam from a bad mood. "Now come on, dinner awaits and since you're treating me I think we should get a move on."

"I'm treating you?" Sam asked stopping beside the car. "When did I make that decision?"

Al unlocked and pulled the door open before answering, "Don't you know you talk in your sleep," he said with a mischievous grin.

"I do not," Sam sputtered as Al shut the door cutting him off.

-----------------------------

Despite his protestation, Sam had to admit that it felt good to be the one to pay for dinner. For once he wasn't being taken care of. He knew it was a small thing, really, but it did help him to feel just a bit more independent.

Once they got back to the hotel Al put Sam through another rigourous round of the exercises Jo had assigned him. By the end of it all his leg felt like a leaden weight and he happily accepted the Percocet when Al offered it to him. It had been three weeks since the accident and even though there was a part of him that kept insisting he shouldn't be taking strong painkillers anymore the more rational part of him didn't want to face another night like the last.

He tried to make a go of doing more work for the project but the day soon caught up with him – along with the painkiller – and by 10:00 he was nodding off in the chair. It didn't take much for Al to convince him to climb into bed where he'd be more comfortable. It seemed like as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell instantly asleep. A bomb could have gone off in the room and it was doubtful he would have heard it.

It wasn't a bomb, though, that Sam slept through. Instead Al was haunted for another night with the same nightmare he'd been having on and off the whole week. Yet again he dreamt that Sam was killed by the car hitting him and that his bloody corpse came back to life blaming Al for his lack of vigilance.

Yet again Al ended up sitting up just watching Sam sleep, watching him breath for over an hour before he could relax enough to go back to sleep himself. He could only hope that his demons wouldn't follow him into sleep again.


	93. Chapter 93

"Would you stop being so chipper," Al grumbled when Sam emerged from the bathroom whistling "The Impossible Dream" from _Man of LaMancha_. "It's too damned early for that."

"What's got you in a bad mood already?" Sam asked sitting on the foot of his bed. He'd woken up refreshed from a good night's sleep and feeling about as good as he had in days. Al, on the other hand, had been surly and cross since Sam had woken up.

"You." Al said.

"Me?" Sam questioned. "What'd I do?"

"You kept me awake all night, that's what you did."

"Me?" Sam again questioned.

"Yes, you and would stop saying that."

"At the risk of getting my head bit off again I've got to ask, what'd I do?"

For just one moment Al was tempted to tell Sam about the dream but he quickly changed his mind. He may have been finding Sam's good mood irritating but he hadn't seen him like this in a long time and it wouldn't be fair to take it away from him. "You snored all night like a buzz saw, that's what you did. You made so damned much noise the windows were vibrating." It was lie, plain and simple, but in Al's mind it was kinder than the truth.

"Geez, I'm sorry." Sam offered in a heartfelt apology. "You should have just woken me or made me roll over or something."

"Nah, it's all right," Al said feeling bad that his lie had made Sam feel bad. "You need your sleep more than I do. Besides, I think it might have taken a bomb to wake you up. You didn't even twitch when the phone rang when your mother called."

"Mom called," Sam asked looking up from the sneaker he was tying

"Yeah, she did. About 10-15 minutes after you fell asleep. She didn't want me to wake you up and I don't think that would have been remotely possible even if she'd wanted me too." Al watched as Sam used his hands to pull his left leg so that his foot was resting on the edge of the bed so he could tie that sneaker. It was still painful for him to bend his hip that much and by the time he was done and had dropped his leg back down a fine sheen of perspiration covered his face. Al didn't comment on it, though. It was the first time Sam had voluntarily bent his leg that far. It was progress and Al wasn't going to do anything to hinder the progress.

"What'd she say?" Sam asked once the pain was under control.

"She was just checking in to see how you were doing."

"I can't believe I forgot to call her yesterday," Sam said scooting back on the bed to reach the phone.

"You're not gonna call right now, are you?" Al asked. "You do realize it's the wee hours of the morning in Hawaii. I don't think your Mom – or Katie and Jim – would really be happy if you called right now."

"You're right," Sam said taking his hand off the phone. "I forgot about the time difference for a second. It's way too early to call."

"You're gonna have to wait until at least this afternoon," Al reminded. "In the meantime, let's get the show on the road and get something to eat." He led the way to the door holding it open so that Sam could slip out first.

"How'd Mom sound when you talked to her?" Sam asked while they waited for the elevator.

Before Al could answer the elevator doors opened up on their floor and a young couple exited. Sam and Al entered the car once the couple had left and Al pushed the button for the bottom floor where the restaurant was. "She sounded real good," Al said answering Sam's question after the doors had closed. "If I hadn't known how sick she was just a couple of weeks ago I would have never guessed it." Al turned so that he was facing Sam. "I hate to say it, buddy, but she sounds like she's recovering a heck of a lot faster than you."

"I'm doing the best I can," Sam said as the doors opened on their floor and he started to walk out. Unfortunately he was looking back over his shoulder at Al and didn't notice that when the elevator had stopped it hadn't quite leveled off with the floor so, consequently, it was about an inch higher. As Sam stepped out he stumbled, almost falling, because of the unevenness between the elevator and the floor. The only thing that saved him from the fall was Al's fast reflexes.

"Damn it," Al exclaimed steadying Sam, "what the hell's wrong with this thing? You ok, Sam?"

"I'm fine, Al. Thanks." Sam caught his balance and took a couple of steps away from the elevator to give Al room to exit.

"You sure you're ok?" Al questioned. "That's totally unacceptable", he continued not giving Sam a chance to answer. "You could have fallen and hurt yourself or someone else could trip over that and break their neck. What the hell are they thinking?"

"Al, would you calm down and lower your voice, please," Sam asked looking over his shoulder to see if Al's raised voice was attracting any attention. "Don't tell me you've never been on an elevator before this that didn't level out when it stopped. I should have been looking where I was going."

"Bullshit. That thing should be working properly. What would have happened if I hadn't been there? You'd have fallen, that's what."

"Al, please, lower your voice," Sam begged. This time when he glanced around he saw the desk manager heading in their direction. Unfortunately Al's ranting was attracting attention.

"Is there something wrong, gentlemen," the man asked when he'd reached Sam and Al.

"No nothing's…" Sam began only to be cut off by Al.

"Hell yes something's wrong," Al loudly declared. "Your damned elevator isn't working properly. My friend almost fell getting out of it. He's hurt enough without your faulty equipment making it worse. It's unacceptable."

The manager looked back at the elevator that was still open and saw the unevenness. "I'm very sorry about that, Sir. We haven't had any problems with it or it would have been taken out of service to prevent any accidents and it will be now. The repair company will be called right away. I apologize for any inconvenience you're suffered."

Again Sam tried to assure the manager that everything was fine but again Al cut him off.

"Inconvenience? Is that what you call it?"

Al looked like he was gearing up for another round but Sam had taken about all he could of the current spectacle. "Al," he said in an equally loud voice that seemed to finally get the older man's attention. "Please just let it go. There's no harm done. This is crazy standing here yelling like this. It's no one's fault. Things just happen." Sam's eyes begged that Al honor his wishes and just let the matter drop.

Al blew out a breath. "Ok, Sam, I'll drop it but if that happens again…." Al let his voice trail off allowing both Sam and the manager to fill in the blank for themselves

"I can assure you, Sir, it won't happen again," the manager hastened to reassure.

"Thank you," Sam softly said. "I'm sorry we caused any bother."

"Not at all," the manager assured. "Again, I'm sorry this happened."

Al nodded curtly at the man not trusting himself to say anything else without again raising his voice and causing Sam more discomfort. He headed in the direction of the restaurant sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to see that Sam was following him.

Neither man spoke to each other until after the waitress had come over to take their orders.

"You didn't have to do that," Sam said once the waitress had left.

"Do what?"

"Do what! How about cause a scene in the lobby, that's what."

"I didn't cause a scene. I was simply pointing out something that was dangerous."

Sam could only look at Al incredulously and sputter for a moment. "That wasn't a scene? You practically ripped that guy's head off and I think they heard you at the Capitol. If that wasn't a scene I don't know what it."

"Ok, so maybe I got a little loud," Al conceded. "Ok, a lot loud," he amended when he saw the look on Sam's face. "And maybe I did over react a bit. I'm just a little stressed out right now, Sam. I'll try not to over react in the future. Ok?"

Sam had no choice but to agree with Al although he had a pretty good idea the chances of Al over reacting again were pretty good.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Al asked in a bid to change the subject.

"I don't know? I haven't really thought much about it. I guess I can take the time to get more work done."

"No way," Al flatly stated and pushed on when Sam looked ready to protest. "Look at it outside. It's a beautiful day out and when I had the news on last night it said it's gonna be a nice warm day. No way are you spending a day like today cooped up in the hotel room. You're going to go out and do something and enjoy yourself."

"Even if it kills me?" Sam asked playfully.

Al scowled at Sam's attempt at a joke. "Not funny."

"Ok, bad joke. So what did you have in mind since you don't like my idea?"

"I figured we'd do exactly what Dr. Gleason suggested when you were in the hospital – play tourist. Beside the Air and Space Museum which I now know you were in what else have you seen in DC?"

"Up close and personal?" Sam asked. "Not much, really. I told you, I've never really had the time to do any sightseeing when I've been here."

"Well, today's as good a day as any and you can get in plenty of practice walking."

They finished breakfast and went back up to their room to get their coats. Even though it was supposed to be a warm day, at least warm for March, Al wasn't going to take a chance on Sam getting chilled while they were out.

They took a taxi from the hotel to the Washington Monument and Al bought tickets for them for Tourmobile there. Tourmobile was a tram that circled the city of Washington stopping at all of the major points. They'd be able to get on and off all day as often as they wanted. It was the easiest, and cheapest way for them to see the sights of the city while also limiting just how much walking Sam would have to do.

While they sat on the bench waiting for the tram to come Sam flipped over the back of the ticket that had an illustration of the tram's route on it. "I've always been curious to see the Tomb of the Unknowns," he said when he saw that Arlington National Cemetery was one of the stops.

Al flipped over the ticket to look at the route himself. "So why don't we go over there first," he suggested. "If we time it right we should be able to see the Changing of the Guard."

The Changing of the Guard ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown was one that Al had seen many times in the past but thought it would be of interest to Sam. Shortly after they made their decision go to Arlington first the tram arrived.

Between the various other stops the tram made on its way and the traffic it was nearly 15 minutes before they finally crossed through the gates of the cemetery. As they did Sam noticed how Al's posture became just a little straighter.

When the tram finally stopped they found out that they had to transfer to a different one that lapped the cemetery grounds exclusively. Luckily there was one just getting ready to leave which they were able to get on quickly.

The guide on the tram was very knowledgeable about the history of the cemetery and both Sam and Al were found the fact she imparted to be very interesting. The first stop the tram made was at the Kennedy Graves site. Although Sam was interested in seeing the site they decided to remain on the tram and continue on to the Tomb of the Unknowns since the timing would be better that way to see the Changing of the Guard Ceremony.

After a five minute stop to let passengers exit and new ones enter the tram was soon on it's way again. It stopped minutes later at the Memorial Amphitheater which stood in front of the Tomb of the Unknowns. Sam and Al allowed the other passengers to get off first before they followed at a slower pace.

When they'd circled around the Amphitheater to the area where the Tomb was the ceremony was a wreath laying ceremony was in progress. The two stood just outside the roped off area looking on in silence with everyone else and when the bugle player played Taps, Al came to attention and saluted beside Sam.

Once the wreath laying ceremony was over Al looked down at his watch. "It's gone be about 5 – 10 minutes until the Changing of the Guard. You up to waiting that long?"

"I think so," Sam answered back quietly not wanting to break the somber feel of the area by speaking louder. "Why don't we just stay out of the way so if I need to sit or something we can get away."

While they waited Al softly explained to Sam the role of the Old Guard and their involvement in guarding the Tomb. Though he may have been Navy and the Old Guard was Army he'd made it his business to know the history. When the sergeant came out to signal the start of the ceremony Al silently nudged Sam's arm asking with his eyes if he'd be ok for another little while or if he need to rest.

"I'm ok," Sam murmured before falling into the silence that was requested.

Sam found the ceremony itself impressive and the silence that it was conducted in, save for the click of the heels of the soldiers, heightened the somber tone. He chanced a glance over to Al during it and his expression was unreadable.

When the ceremony ended the two walked in silence back to the benches where the tram would pick them up. "That was impressive," Sam said as he lowered himself to sit on the bench.

"Yeah," Al agreed. "That it is."

Al's expression was still unreadable and whatever he was feeling inside, Sam had a feeling he didn't want to share it. He glanced back at the Amphitheater behind them and saw people climbing the stairs to go in it. "Think we have time to take a look?" he asked.

"Probably," Al answered. "You up to those steps?"

"I think so," Sam answered back confidently.

The walked around the top level of the amphitheater and got back to the benches just in time to get on the tram when it pulled up.

The final stop before it headed back to the Visitor's Center was Arlington House, the former home of General Robert E. Lee. The site was also supposed to afford one of the most scenic views of the city and Sam expressed an interest in wanting to see it. Al wasn't so sure it was the smartest thing they could do – the path from the tram to the house was a dirt path at an incline. Sam seemed so enthusiastic, though, and he didn't want to do anything to squash it.

They took their time on the path but Sam was still winded when they got to the end of it. Even nearly a week after ending the course of anti-biotics he was still feeling effects from the pneumonia.

"Here, why don't you take a break here and catch your breath before you go off exploring," Al said leading Sam over to a group of benches set up on the veranda of the mansion.

Sam watched Al walk a little ways from where he was sitting and decided this would be a good time to confront him about what was going on. They were both relaxed and enjoying themselves. With any luck he'd get a straight answer out of him…or he'd royally screw up the whole day.

"Hey, Al," Sam called out.

"Yeah, what's up, Sam? You ok?" Al asked coming back over to where Sam was sitting.

"I'm fine," Sam said waving off the concern. "You wanna tell me what this morning was all about?"

"What about this morning?" Al asked sitting next to Sam on the bench and looking out at the view.

Sam risked a glance in Al's direction and then looked back out at the blue sky. "I thought you were going to rip off that guy's head. I don't think I've ever seen you so upset over something so small."

"It wasn't small, Sam. You could have hurt yourself and right now that's just unacceptable."

Sam turned slightly on the bench so that he was facing Al and tried to catch his eye. Al kept starting off resolutely at the horizon trying to avoid Sam. "What's goin' on, Al? The last couple of days I feel like you're ready to just blow your top or something. Did I do something?"

Finally Al turned his head to look at Sam. "You didn't do anything, Kid and nothing's going on. I just flew off the handle this morning because I was tired, that's all." When Sam looked like he was going to say something more Al deliberately cut him off. "Sam, just drop it, please. It's a beautiful day and we've been having a good time. Let's not ruin it by arguing, huh?"

Sam gave a small nod to his head. "Yeah, Al. Sure." He was willing to stop pressing Al for now not wanting to ruin the day himself but he put it in the back of his mind to get it out of him later what was going on.

He pushed himself up off the bench and carefully stepped down from the veranda. "I'm going go see this view they were talking about." He walked over to the edge of the gravel area and looked out at the vista spread before him. "Wow!" he said.

"Yeah, pretty spectacular, isn't?" Al commented joining him.

"Yeah, it is. I'm glad we came up here. I'm glad you made me play tourist," Sam said turning toward Al. "I would have missed all this again if you hadn't."

"Well, I take my job seriously," Al said starting to lead the way back down the path to the tram.

"Your job?"

"Yeah," Al said looking back over his should. "Making sure you actually know what fun is and that you get your butt out in the real world every now and then."

"I get out," Sam defended but qualified his statement when he saw the look of mock disbelief that Al threw at him. "Well, ok, you make me get out."

The tram was pulling up just as they reached the bottom of the path. Once they'd boarded it they headed back to the Visitor's Center and switched over to the tram that would take them back into the city. They spent the rest of the day riding the loop around DC and seeing all the tourist sights. Al, who had visited DC many times in the past, took on the role of tour guide with relish. By the end of the day both men were tired and happily welcomed the thought of having their dinner delivered to their room.

After speaking with Thelma on the phone for short while, Sam ended up turning in far earlier than he normally would have. His strength and stamina were still depleted as he recovered and his body still craved great amounts sleep. Since he hadn't taken his usual afternoon nap, that meant ending the night early as his body demanded its rest.

Despite also being tired as well, Al instead chose to sit up watching the TV for as long as he could. He didn't want a repeat of last night's dream and figured the only way he could prevent it was to simply not go to sleep. It was nearly 3 am when his body finally took over and he nodded off to a fitful sleep.


	94. Chapter 94

Sam was awake and out of bed before the clock had quite hit 7:00. He felt rested after a long night's sleep and was starting to get back into his old habits. Sleeping late was not a habit a farm boy tended to pick up. Al was still zonked out in his bed and the TV was softly playing. Sam grabbed up the remote from where it had fallen on the bed beside Al and used it to turn off the TV. It was like there was some type of connection between Al and the TV because as soon as the TV turned off Al's eyes popped open awake.

"Wha? What's goin on? What's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"Nothing's wrong," Sam answered. "I was just turning off the TV. You must have fallen asleep with it on last night." Sam stopped and took a close look at Al. "Just what time did you go to sleep last night?"

"I don't know," Al said sitting up in the bed knuckling the sleep out of his eyes. "I wasn't tired and started watching a movie. I must have conked out in the middle of it."

Sam regarded Al through narrowed eyes. "You ok, Al?" he finally asked.

"Me? What makes you think there's something wrong with me?"

"You don't seem to be getting a lot of sleep lately, that's what. You were about as tired as I was when we got back here last night. I don't see how you could have stayed up late watching TV."

"It happens, Sam. Now let it rest." Al paused a beat then asked, "What time it is anyway?"

Sam glanced back over to the clock between the two beds. "It's just a bit before 7:00," he answered.

"It's not even 7:00? Geez, Sam have you ever heard of sleeping in on a Sunday morning?"

"I did sleep in. I'm usually up by 6, sometimes earlier."

"Seven o'clock is not sleeping in, Kid," Al complained. "For a Sunday, that's getting up early."

"So, no one's telling you to get up, are they? Sleep in if you want. I'm gonna take a shower and then see about getting some work done."

"First he wakes me up, then he tells me to sleep in. It must be his goal to drive me looney," Al said under his breath.

"You know I can hear you," Sam commented while rummaging in a drawer for clothes to change into. "I broke my leg, among other things, but I haven't gone deaf."

Sam rested one of the crutches against the bureau so he'd have a free hand to carry his clothes into the bathroom. Al frowned when he saw it but Sam had started doing it last night with no ill effects so he chose not to say anything to him. "Great, so we know you're hearing's just perfect. You want a gold star for your forehead?"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Go back to sleep," Sam good-naturedly ordered with a roll of his eyes.

Al waited until Sam had disappeared in the bathroom and the water started to run before lying back in bed. Sam's idea wasn't half bad. He was pretty tired and catching a little more sleep sounded like a good idea. He let his eyes start to drift close and felt sleep coming swiftly to carry him away. He was in a twilight doze when Sam emerged from the bathroom. He was aware of the sounds Sam made as he moved around the room finally going over to the table by the window and settling down to his work again. Reassured by the familiar noises Al drifted back to sleep.

--------------------

"Al? Al, wake up." The voice that was annoyingly calling his name was accompanied by a hand that was shaking his shoulder.

"What do you want?" Al complained coming awake.

"It's after 9:00, Al," Sam stated.

"Congratulations, you know how to tell time," Al groused sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side. "You want to tell me why you're waking me up now? If I recall correctly you're the one who told me to sleep in."

"Well, yeah, I did," Sam agreed. "I just didn't think you were going to sleep the day away."

"Sam, 9:00 is not sleeping the day away. Now what's got you all fired up that you woke me up."

"Uh, I was just starting to get hungry. I thought we could go get breakfast or something."

Al pinched the bridge of his nose and quietly counted to ten before he answered. "You woke me up because you're hungry? Sam, why didn't you just call down to room service and order yourself something?"

Sam's brow wrinkled in confusion at Al's question. "I thought we could eat together. Besides, it's getting late so I figured you must be getting hungry, too."

"You're something else, you know that." Al took a good look around the room as he rose from the bed and was shocked by what he saw. "Sam, what the hell happened in here?"

"Huh?"

"It looks like a cyclone tore through here while I was sleeping."

Sam also looked around the room seeing what Al was seeing but not able to figure out what was amiss.

Al grabbed the clothes that Sam had been sleeping in which were thrown in a pile on the bed and folded them neatly and put them on the dresser. "Look, see if you can find the table under your paper blizzard there and call down to get us some breakfast and I'll hop in the shower." He snatched the damp towel from off of Sam's bed where he'd left it and started for the bathroom. "Someday you're actually going to shock the life out of me and put the wet towel back in the bathroom." He didn't get very far before he tripped over Sam's sneakers which somehow had ended up in the middle of the floor. Wordlessly, Al bent down to move them out of the way.

By the time he emerged from the shower Sam had cleaned the papers off of the table and room service was just delivering their breakfast.

"Sorry about the mess," Sam apologized once the server had left.

"We're just two different people," Al said waving him off. "I should be used to your 'messy Marvin' routine by now."

"Yeah, and I guess I should be used to your 'neatnik' routine by now, too."

The two men hungrily consumed all that had been brought up for breakfast.

"So, what do you want to do today," Al asked once they were both sitting back indulging in cups of coffee.

"I'd really like to just hang around here," Sam said. "I've really hit on something and I want to push on ahead with it. If you want to go out for a while, though, that's fine with me. I'll be ok by myself."

"Nah," Al said waving a hand in the air. "I think I'll just stay put, too. Maybe I'll catch up on some reading or something. I'd offer to give you a hand with whatever it is you're doing but I know until you get it figured out no one else is going to be able to understand it."

"You sure, Al?" Sam questioned. "You don't have to stay here just on my account. I'm ok by myself. You don't have to stay here with me."

"I'm sure, Sam." What Al didn't tell Sam was that although he was quite sure Sam would most likely be fine by himself, Al wasn't ready to test out that theory yet. It hadn't left his mind that there was the very real possibility that the accident wasn't an accident and that someone had hit Sam deliberately in an attempt to kill him. It also wasn't the first time there'd been an "accident" that put Sam's life in danger. Al just wasn't ready to give up on his vigilance now. It went deeper than that, though. He felt an overwhelming responsibility to stay as close as he could to Sam to make sure he really was ok. Every time he relaxed his vigilance is when it seemed like something happened.

True to his word, Sam spent the majority of the day hunched over the table with papers spread out everywhere working diligently on a series of equations. It was nearly 1:00 when Al decided that the noises coming from Sam had grown more and more irritated as he seemed to have hit an impasse that he couldn't get around and decided it was time to force the younger man away from his work for a while.

"C'mon, Sam," he said coming over to the table with Sam's sneakers in hand. "It's time to take a break and go get some lunch."

Sam threw down the pencil disgusted. "Why not, I'm not getting very far with this right now."

"You want some help with these or do you want to do it yourself?" Al asked holding up the sneakers.

"I can do it," Sam said taking them from Al.

They ended up going to a small deli close by the hotel. Their lunch was anything but relaxing and peaceful, though. Sam's mind was still back on the work he'd been doing. Al kept fussing that he was doing too much work too soon and it soon started to wear on Sam's nerves.

Al, on the other hand, felt like the better Sam was feeling, the more independence he was gaining, the less control he had over protecting him. He recognized that he was starting to over react but couldn't quite seem to figure out a way to stop doing it. Not without his dreams becoming reality. Consequently, they both ended up squabbling all through their lunch. No matter what one said, it was enough to set the other off.

They walked back to the hotel in an uncomfortable silence.

"We can't keep doing this," Sam said when they reached the door to the hotel.

"Keep doing what?" Al asked stopping outside the door and facing Sam.

"We can't keep blowing up at each other like this. This is getting crazy."

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"I don't know, Al," Sam confessed. "We need to figure something out, though. You can't be my shadow for the rest of my life."

"I know that, Sam. I'm just not sure you're ready to not have someone close by and for now I'm it."

"I think that's the problem, Al."

"You think I'm the problem?" Al asked for clarification.

"No, no. Not you. I think the problem is we've been too close together for too long. Think about it. Aside from the medical personnel we've only really interacted with each other and that's bound to get on both of our nerves. We need to see other people."

"Ok, I'll buy that, Sam. Only problem is, we don't really know anyone in DC."

"Yeah, I know that," Sam agreed walking through the door that was held open for him. "That's why I'm hoping Dr. Gleason clears me to fly tomorrow. Then we can get back to New Mexico on Tuesday and actually be with other people. Maybe then we'll stop jumping down each other's throats."

"Sure, Sam. That's probably all we need. A change of scenery and some new people to talk to."

They'd reached the elevator when Al hit on an idea. "Look you go on back up to the room and do your mad-scientist routine. I'm gonna go out and walk around for a while and clear my head. You're probably right and we've just been around each other for too long a period."

"Sounds good, Al."

"I'll be back later, then," Al said before turning on his heel and heading back for the door.

Sam watched Al walk away for a second before calling after him, "Hey Al, do me a favor and try not to worry about me when you're out. Kinda defeats the purpose if you do."

Al waved a hand over his shoulder to acknowledge Sam's suggestion.

--------------------

It was nearly dinner time when Al pushed open the door to the room. He was surprised to see Sam still up and sitting at the table scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper. He'd expected when he got back that Sam would probably be zonked out on the bed like he seemed to do nearly every afternoon but a quick look at Sam's bed led him to believe he hadn't given in to the afternoon nap today.

Since he'd been out for so long he thought he'd surprise Sam by bring dinner back with him. Despite the difficulties the other night, Sam had seemed to enjoy the food he'd picked up at the Italian restaurant near the hotel so he'd dropped by there again to get their dinner.

He was halfway across the room when he nearly tripped over Sam's sneakers that, instead of being against the wall out of the way, were in middle of the room. He made a guess that Sam had sat down on the foot of his bed to take them off and where they dropped had been where they'd stayed. His coat was tossed haphazardly in the middle of Al's bed.

"Geez, Sam what is it with you and leaving a trail behind you? Your mother must have had to pick up after you constantly. Don't you ever put anything away?" he asked aggravated.

Sam looked up at Al shocked. Apparently he hadn't heard the door open and was only aware of Al's return when he called out to him. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"What I mean," Al said thumping the bag of takeout on the table next to Sam and backtracking to move the sneakers out of the way and hang up the coat, "is that you can't just keep leaving your stuff in the middle of the floor all the time and I don't know how many times I'm gonna have to say it. That might've worked before the accident but all you're doing now is making an obstacle course for yourself – and me. You're gonna get up in the middle of the night and not see something on the floor and end up tripping over it and falling. I'm also getting damned sick and tired of having to pick up after you."

"I'm sorry, Al. I didn't mean…"

Al cut him off. "Sorry doesn't cut it. You take a fall and chances are you're gonna hurt yourself and then I'll have to haul your sorry ass back to the hospital. Is that what you want? Do you really want to spend another couple of weeks there? If you do, just tell me now and I'll drive you there already and save us both the aggravation." It hadn't been Al's intention to get short with Sam or to jump all over him for something so foolish. He just flashed on a vision of Sam falling over something on the floor and re-injuring himself. His fear of that happening came out as anger.

Unfortunately it was exactly the wrong track to take with Sam who met Al's vehemence with his own. "Pardon me for living," Sam curtly responded pulling himself from the chair. "I wouldn't want to put you out by making you have to drive me there. It's not like I left them there just to piss you off. I tried to get them out of the way but I couldn't bend down that far without losing my balance. I didn't think you wanted to come back to find me sprawled on the floor 'cause then you really might have had to 'drag my sorry ass' back to the hospital. And I'm really sorry you feel like you have to go behind me and pick up after me. I'll try to make sure I do better in the future ok, Dad?" The sarcasm in the word "Dad" was a nearly palpable thing.

Sam's anger acted as a mirror for Al and he was able to see how he'd jumped on Sam for something so inconsequential. It should have occurred to him that Sam couldn't very well bend down to move the sneakers from where they'd dropped. He slumped down on the foot of the bed as his anger drained away from him.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. Of course you couldn't pick them up by yourself. I just worry about you, Kid, and I want to make sure you're safe. Sometimes I think you forget you're not back to 100 yet and you still have to make changes in how you normally do things. Face it, Kid, you're not exactly the most organized person in the world and if you keep leaving stuff in the middle of the floor it's gonna be dangerous for you. I don't want you to get hurt again. I just want to protect you."

Sam dropped back down into the chair as his anger also drained away. "You can't do that all the time, Al. Not unless you're going to wrap me up in some bubble wrap and keep me locked up in a padded room. I'm not being messy on purpose and I did try to move them out of the way but let's face it, picking up stuff off the floor is not much of an option right now and when I tried to kick them outta the way I almost lost my balance. I was going to warn you when you came in but I didn't hear the door and the next thing I know you were yelling at me. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled back but you gotta stop treating me like I'm a little kid that needs to be wrapped up in cotton batting."

"Is that what I'm trying to do to you?" Al asked before laughing without any humor.

Sam nodded his agreement.

"We gotta talk, Kid," Al said with a sigh.

"About what?" Sam asked suddenly on guard.

"About what's been going on here the last couple of days; about what's gonna happen when the docs clear you to fly. You're right; I have been treating you like a kid and telling you what to do. I just feel like since they released you from the hospital you've become my responsibility and I have to do everything I can to protect you."

"But I'm not your responsibility, Al. I don't want you to feel like you "have" to help me." Sam looked down at the floor softly voicing the rest of his thought, "I was hoping you were doing it 'cause we were friends."

"Oh Sam, of course it's cause we're friends. I don't even know how to explain why I feel like I need to take care of you." He could have told him about the dream that had been waking him up nearly every night since his release. He could have told him how he'd sit for long stretches at night just watching him breathe but he didn't. Now wasn't the time to lay anymore guilt on Sam's shoulders. Al reached over to him tilting his head up so he was looking at him. "Hey, look at me. You are the closest friend I have or have ever had. You're more like family to me, Kid and I really thought I was gonna lose you. I don't think I've ever been as scared as I was when that car hit you. I thought you were dead and I guess it's taking me a little while to shake that."

"I'm not dead, Al. I'm alive and I plan on staying that way."

"I know that. You just gotta give me a little time – and I'm not the only one who needs some time which brings me to an idea I had while I was out walking around."

"An idea?" Sam asked suspiciously. "Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

"Just hang on and hear me out before you pass judgment, ok."

"Ok," Sam hesitantly agreed.

"Ok. Now if all goes well tomorrow, the doc should sign off on you and you'll be free and clear to fly so we could get out of here as early as the next day."

Sam nodded his head to indicate his agreement with what Al had said so far.

"I don't think you're ready to go back to New Mexico just yet, though." When Sam tried to argue Al held up a hand to stop him. "You said you'd hear me out, remember?'

Again Sam was hesitant in his agreement.

"Like I said, I don't think you're ready to head back to New Mexico and the project yet so what I'm proposing is that you go to Hawaii instead and visit with your mother for a week, maybe two. That'll give you the chance to see with your own eyes that she's ok and it'll give you the chance to rest up and get more of your strength back. What do you say? Sound like a plan?"

Sam mulled over what Al had said for a moment before giving his answer. "On one condition – you come with me. You could use the downtime just as much as I could."

"I was planning on it," Al agreed. "You don't think I was gonna let you travel all the way to Hawaii by yourself, did you? Besides, it's been a while since I had your Mom's good cooking. And speaking of cooking, let's eat." Al chose not to tell Sam that he wasn't ready to let Sam out of his sight yet. As long as he was with Sam it was easier to remind himself that he was very much alive and not dead in the middle of the street and also much easier to make sure nothing happened to him that would fulfill that part of the dream.

Al got up and started to pull the takeout boxes out of the bag while Sam scooped up the pile of papers and folders and put them down on the floor out of the way near the wall where no one would trip over them.

"We're good, aren't we, Al?" Sam asked with sincerity.

"We always were, Kid. Now eat up. We've got to get some meat back on your bones."


	95. Chapter 95

The next day was a whirlwind as Sam went from an appointment with Dr. Childs to one with Dr. Gleason and finally his last therapy appointment with Jo. At the end of it he'd been cleared to travel by all of them although Dr. Gleason did put some restrictions on it. He wanted him to only be in the air for short durations of time which meant no cross-country flights.

Jo had also cleared him to transition from using the crutches to a cane so that would make their travel that much easier. She'd also given him a referral for a physical therapist when he got back to New Mexico. He'd have to continue with the therapy at least on a weekly basis for the foreseeable future. She'd assured both Sam and Al that for the time they were in Hawaii Sam would suffer no setbacks from not having regular therapy provided he continued on with the exercises he'd been doing.

As soon as they got back to the hotel room Al got on the phone with the airlines booking their flights from DC to Hawaii. They'd fly to Chicago the next day and stay there overnight before continuing on to Los Angeles the following day. After a night in LA they'd fly out the next morning finally arriving in Hawaii.

The two went out that night for a celebratory dinner although Sam was still prohibited from any alcohol due to the variety of medications he was still taking. In deference to that, Al also skipped anything alcoholic as well.

Driving back from the restaurant to the hotel they were lucky to find a parking space quite close The Wall. Sam wanted to visit it one last time before they departed DC in the morning and Al couldn't tell him no. Even though it was full night the area of the monument was well lit and there were still a fair number of tourists walking along the somber panels of black marble. Al walked slightly behind Sam marveling how in just a week his walking had gotten better and that he seemed to be putting even more weight on his left leg. He was still limping heavily and his gait was still awkward and Jo had told them it would probably be like that for a while yet but he was making definite process. Just the fact that he'd been able to switch to just a cane for support spoke volumes as to how far he'd come in such a short time.

When they got to the panel with Tom's name on it Sam looked back asking with his eyes that Al help him lower himself to be able to reach the name. Al took the cane from him and leaned it up against the polished marble and slowly helped Sam to lower himself down. Once he was kneeling steadily Al stepped back to give him some privacy.

Like he had the first time Al witnessed this same sight just three weeks ago, Sam reached out brushing his fingers back and forth over his brother's name before again murmuring something too soft for Al to hear before softly calling Al's name to help him back up.

"You would have liked him, Al," Sam said once he'd regained vertical. "I know he would have liked you. You're the kind of friend Tom always said I needed. Someone to take my nose out of the books and make me see that there's more to life than just learning as much as you can. I wish you could have met him."

"I have, Sam," Al assured him putting a companionable arm around Sam's shoulders. "Every time you tell me about him I meet him again." Al shivered a little as a gust of wind caught them and saw that Sam shivered even more. "C'mon, let's get out of this wind and back to the hotel You don't need to be coming down with pneumonia again and we need to finish packing and get a good night's sleep before we head out tomorrow.

The two men made their way slowly back to the car and drove off into the night each secure in the knowledge that despite the hardships of the past several weeks their friendship had grown stronger and their trust in each other deeper. There were still obstacles that they'd have to overcome but together they'd be able to meet those obstacles head on and get around them. In the end, despite how grim the three weeks in DC may have been, they'd always look back on it as a time when they deepened their trust and crossed the line from friends to family.


End file.
